


Fear of Flying

by violetknights



Category: CW Network RPF, Criminal Minds
Genre: Abduction, Case Fic, M/M, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetknights/pseuds/violetknights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer is targeting male college students in Portland. Can the BAU stop him before he kills his latest victim? How will the fallout from this crime spree affect those left behind in its wake?</p><p>This is the darkest fic I've ever written. In places it is hard and cruel and brutal. It contains some of my own story and maybe some of yours as well. It is a story of suffering and pain but ultimately it is a story of hope. It is a story of bravery and courage and redemption.</p><p>"Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time . . . If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?" (Fight Club)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this story I have made most of the CW guys about the same age, they are all third year students at Portland medical school. It is set mid Criminal Minds Season six, so after JJ has gone but before Prentiss leaves too.
> 
> In the English boy's boarding School system of the early seventies the term 'fag' was used to mean a younger boy, usually a first year who was assigned to a much older student. The relationship was supposed to be mutually beneficial with the younger boy performing small chores like polishing shoes and making toast and the older boy acting as a mentor.

Aaron Hotchner “When you grow up in an environment like that; an extremely abusive household it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.  
Unsub - “You said some people grow up to become killers . . ."  
Hotchner - “and some people grow up to catch them.”

 

Prologue - September 1979, England.

'Tian curled up as small as he could get, huddling under the bed covers and wishing he could disappear. He had been holding himself together all day, trying to be brave in front of these strange, English boys. Everything about them was wrong, so loud, so smelly! He had stared at them with scared, blue eyes as they rampaged around greeting each other with loud halloos and tales of holidays and treats they'd brought for tuck. Tuck! What a stupid word, it was as though they had their own language, fag, Mater, Pater, senior and juniors. He'd heard someone call him fresh meat and he had no idea what it meant. To his ear, so used to listening to the musical sound of the Parisian French that was spoken at home, it sounded harsh and ugly.

But still he had studied them all very carefully, these strange, wild boys. He knew that he would have to be able to imitate them and sound natural doing it if he was going to blend in and become part of the crowd. He knew instinctively that it would be so much easier to be here if he didn't put his head above the parapet.

Jean-Paul, his tutor had tried to tell him what to expect, had given a disdainful little sneer as he'd told 'Tian about the English boys who were like pack animals, how he would have to make sure he was part of the pack or he would end up as the little fox being torn to death. "Barbarians!" the man had concluded with a shudder and Seb had taken it all in, staring with his strange pale eyes.

Maman had been distraught at their parting, sobbing and having to go and lie down in her room, "Mon petit 'Tian!" she'd cried. "Do not go, do not leave me!" and Grandpere had tutted his disapproval. "This is why he has to go, you are too indulgent with him, he has to go to his father's school, it will make a man of him." And 'Tian had wanted to hide in his mother's arms, to climb in to the vast satin covered bed beside her and refuse to leave but one look at Grandpere's face, so harsh and full of disdain had persuaded him that this was a bad idea. All too often Grandpere had beaten him for some supposed transgression, he had learned his lesson early not to provoke the old man deliberately.

They had lived with Grandpere since his father's death five years before and the man was a fast fading memory. 'Tian supposed he should be grateful that his father had left provision for him to go to a select English Boarding School. that he should appreciate the tradition of going to the same place that his family had done for generations but he wasn't.

Seb loved being French, had loved the life of luxury that he lived in their Paris house. Although only six when they had left his native England for France he had adapted quickly, he was bilingual because his mother had always spoken her native language at home. His Maman was delicate and beautiful and he adored spending time with her, surrounded by her sweet perfumes and dainty things that were all around her suite. Merde! but he didn't want to go to back to England, land of the barbarians! Jean Paul could teach him everything he needed to know, and he had tried to explain that to Grandpere but the old man wouldn't listen. "This is a house of women and old people, boy." he'd said gruffly. "You need to find people you're own age, you need playmates." And that had been the end of it, Maman had begged and pleaded on his behalf but to no avail.

Jean Paul had made the journey with him, 'Tian hadn't been allowed to take his favourite clothes and toys. The school had sent a list and the meager possessions were packed into a trunk, all the items of uniform marked neatly with his name. Toinette had cried as she'd stitched in the labels. The uniform was gray and boring, although he actually rather fancied himself in the smart black blazer with the gold stitched crest on the pocket.

He was allowed to take a small amount of treats packed into a special box and pocket money to last the term in a new wallet. Most important of all as far as 'Tian was concerned was the little package of writing paper and envelopes tucked into his satchel with his fountain pen, Jean-Paul had helped him buy English stamps at the station. He would need to be able to write to Maman, he wouldn't be able to see her again now for twelve whole weeks. The time stretched like an eternity before him.

He had started writing his first letter home at the earliest opportunity, which finally came when he was in bed before lights out.

Chere Maman,  
It is very big here and raining, the food is very strange. The meat had no sauce and the potatoes are called spuds and they serve a blancmange that tastes of nothing for dessert. There is a photograph of Daddy's football team in the Entrance Hall. The Prefect (that means a bigger boy) who was showing me around said I should be very proud of him. It was the best team in years and he hopes I will be as good at it as him. I do not think I will like football, Daddy looked very muddy, I do not like to get dirty.

 

He didn't know what else to say, he wanted to pour out his heart to her, about how very strange everything was here and how very much he missed her and longed to be back with her again but he knew that would only make her sad. He sucked on the end of his pen and looked surreptitiously at the other boys in his dormitory. "Dorm", he must call it if he was to sound like them. Three were new like him, they were reading books or writing letters and two had been there the previous term. They'd shown the new boys where to put their belongings ("Stuff"), now they were sitting together on one bed and playing cards, calling "Go fish!" at each other as they put down and snatched up cards. 'Tian looked at them with a wistful little pang, it actually looked quite fun.

An older boy, the same one who had shown him round earlier, opened the door and called "lights out". The other boys scurried to put their things away and settle under the covers so he followed their example, carefully stowing his letter writing set in the bedside locker. Then the lights were turned off and the door pulled closed and the room was plunged into darkness.

'Tian lay on his back, the scratchy sheet pulled up to his chin, the feeling on his skin was so very different to the soft blankets and warm eiderdowns of home. He had always had a night light at home too and the inky darkness was scary and oppressive. The feeling of unbearable homesickness getting worse and worse the longer he lay awake. He urged himself to be brave but he could hear by their breathing that the others were all asleep now and he felt so very alone.

Toinette, his nurse had slept in his room for as long as he could remember and it had been easy to fall asleep as she sat with a little light and stitched at her embroidery or read stories. If she was in a good mood she read bits of the stories to him as he dozed off, thrilling tales of handsome men who carried away their chosen brides and ravished them until the grateful girls fell in love with them forever.

It was too quiet and too dark and too scratchy and he wanted his maman, and he missed Toinette and he missed Jean Paul and he'd traveled so very far from home and suddenly it was all too much for the eleven year old. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he buried his face in his pillow as he tried to cry quietly. Grandpere would be so cross if he knew, he didn't like it when 'Tian cried, said it was another example of Maman turning him into a baby. Valiantly he fought against it but eventually he gave in to the luxury of his misery and sobbed.

He was crying so hard he was barely aware of the snick as the door opened and a beam of light shone in from the corridor. 'Tian looked up with a sniffle as the Prefect who'd shown him round earlier looked in. "Roche isn't it? Come on you, you'll wake the others." He beckoned to 'Tian who scrambled out of bed and followed the older boy out into the corridor.

The older boy's had the luxury of rooms to themselves and 'Tian stared with big eyes as the prefect switched on an electric kettle and pulled two mugs from a small cupboard. He spooned in cocoa powder and heaped spoonfuls of sugar. "This'll put the heart back in you," he offered jovially as he handed over the mug. 'Tian sniffed it doubtfully, he'd never encountered a beverage like this before, his new friend just laughed and took a big gulp from his own mug. The boy was dark haired and stocky, his hair hung in long shaggy curls to his shoulders, he looked like the English football player whose picture had been in the newspaper he and Jean-Paul had read on the ferry.

"I went to France in the hols, it was wizard." the older boy admitted. "But pretty weird too, different food and all that. I guess you must be finding it all a bit odd here. "  
'Tian nodded, "It is very different," he said quietly.  
"Hmm, what's you name, kid? I'm Halloran Senior, that means I've got a kid brother in the school but my actual name is Steve."  
"I'm Tian, it is short for Sebastian."  
"Huh? Sorry kid, sounds a bit girly, you'll get the shit kicked out of you for sure with a moniker like that. You're Seb now ok?" It was more of a command than a suggestion and if 'Tian was annoyed at someone else telling him what to do he was too grateful for the other boy's kindness to mention it.  
'Tian nodded, "ok" he whispered.

"It's ok, kid," Steve soothed, "I'll look out for you; you're like my little bro, he'll be here next year. You can be my fag if you like, stick with me and I'll show you the ropes."  
"Merci, Steven, that is very kind." He took a hesitant swallow of the gloopy drink and found that it was actually quite pleasant, strong and sweet and very comforting. As Steve had promised 'Tian could indeed feel the heart coming back into him as he drained his mug.

"Steven, what is fag?" he asked hesitantly.  
"It means you're my boy now, no one will mess with you and in return . . . well, I'm sure we can find things you can do for me in return. First off you can drop the French crap outside lessons."  
'Tian focused his startlingly blue eyes on the older boy, something akin to hero worship already glowing in them.  
"Okey dokie, Steve."  
Steve laughed as the younger boy struggled to suppress a yawn.  
"You'll do, kid. Now wash up the mugs and you'd better toddle back to bed before the masters do their rounds. You'll lose us house points if you're out of bed then."

Back in his room 'Tian climbed quickly under the covers feeling so much better that he had before. In his hand he clutched the treasure that his new friend had given him, a small but powerful torch. With it's light he got out his letter and hurried to finish it so he could post it in the morning.

I have made a new friend, he is very nice. His moniker is Steve. He is going to teach me to make toast tomorrow.  
I miss you Maman but I am going to be okay.  
love Seb XX

 

***********************

 

Portland, Oregon. June 2011

Karla gave the guy her most winning smile, just one more and she could go home for the night, she could see he was dithering and she smiled again, trying to look appealing rather than predatory. Just twenty two years old and with a failed marriage behind her she had never imagined her life would turn out like this, turning tricks on a street corner to make the rent. She was tired and the weather was freakin' cold for the time of year and she wanted to get back to her kids; her mother was supposed to be looking after them but the old bat would be stone drunk by now.

"I'll be the best blow job you ever got," she said confidently, angling forward so that her low cut boob tube emphasized her small breasts, the dark rim of her nipples teasing the lacy edging on the tube top. She knew she looked awesome tonight, her latte colored skin fresh and glowing, her lips full and enhanced by the peachy colored lip-gloss she'd liberally applied. She wasn’t a user like many of the skanks out here and she always exposed her arms so the guys could see she wasn’t a junkie. She knew it brought her a lot of trade and meant she could keep her prices up. Especially with nervous little newbie's like the stuttering blonde dude in front of her. It was almost comical the way his eyes darted round as if he expected Vice to drag his ass to jail at any minute. As if they cared enough to bother coming to this part of town anyway.

Finally the guy nodded and cleared his throat. "Where?" he asked abruptly. She could tell by the way he moved that he was nervous, not used to doing this sort of thing. That suited Karla just fine, it was the confident ones who were more likely to cause trouble. She took the money from his trembling hands and tucked it safely into her top. Taking her time so he got a good eyeful of her small but pretty breasts as she did so.

"Over here, hun." she jerked her thumb in the direction of the alley, she had a place in the shadows under the fire escape where she'd squashed a couple of cardboard boxes flat to protect her knees. Still nervously casting around for Cops the guy trotted obediently after her into the dim space.

"That's right, honey," she purred, backing him up against the wall. She let her fingers trail slowly down his chest and towards his groin, listening to the way his breath hitched as his eyes followed the downward progression of her hand. Her nails, long and painted deep blue gleamed softly in the dull glow from barred windows way above them. She was looking at the varnish, appreciating the effect and thinking how she might get Taneesha to do them hot pink next time as she unzipped his trousers and reached for his cock. When he started to scream she thought maybe she'd caught him with her nail or something but that didn't explain the way he'd gone so pale.

"shut up, dude! What the fuck?" She hissed through clenched teeth. The last thing she needed tonight was for the cops to show up.  
"Look, l . . l . . . look!" he stammered.

She turned round and peered into the gloom, "Oh fuck!" she'd seen dead bodies before, junkies who'd OD'd and a girlfriend who'd been hit by a car in front of her; but none like this. Face down, the skin carved in ribbons from his back, no blood though, the corpse was bluer than her nails in the gloom.

"Oh fuck!" she repeated, glad that she'd already got the money as she turned and fled as fast as was possible on her four inch heels. She rapidly vanished into the night, leaving her shocked customer to tremble and swear as he stumbled back onto the street and tried to dial 911 from his cell phone while his fingers were shaking so badly he could barely hold the phone. He threw up three times before the first police car got there.

 

***********************

 

The living room where most of the party was happening was typical of cheap, student housing the world over. It sported a dated paint job and bulk buy fixtures, the worst parts of the walls were covered by band posters and a couple of large body diagrams which had been embellished over time to have bizarrely oversized and technicolored portions of their anatomy.

At the moment the room contained very little in the way of furniture other than a grungy beige couch and a couple of easy chairs, anything of value or import had been put away in readiness for the event. It was dimly lit, just a single up-lighter and a lamp in the corner to illuminate what was going on. Someone, probably Chad, had smashed the main light trying to juggle beer bottles earlier on in the evening and no one had been bothered to replace it. After a particularly gruelling set of semester finals, the want-to-be-doctors were ready to kick back and let their hair down. They wanted to, as Chad so eloquently put it, "PAAARRRRTTTYYYY!"

After a couple of hours of too much drink and not enough food, the party was in full swing. Forty odd people crammed into a space meant to hold four, loud music blared from a stereo and a few people were dancing. There was a couple making out on the stairs and another in the hallway to the kitchen. Outside the bathroom door a pair of young men were arguing heatedly about the benefits of the beer versus the tequila. Although the guests were mainly male those women that were there were enjoying themselves dancing and drinking as heartily as the men.

Parties at the house shared by Chad, Alex, Steve and Christian always tended to get pretty wild anyway and they were a pretty frequent occurrence. The four men were dedicated party goers at the best of times, Steve and Chris were damned good musicians in their limited spare time and were always ready to party hard. However with Chad and Misha banding together to organize the event which they'd dubbed Partypocalypse™; tonight was always going to be epic!

They'd cajoled, wheedled and downright bullied everyone into pooling their resources to buy an outsize keg of the locally brewed specialty beer. The price of entry was a bottle of Tequila and there was also some really hot shit weed that Chad had got from a friend who'd been growing it in a specially lit room hidden in the roof! And all to be shared between the elite group of med students and their personally invited friends. Well, that had been the initial plan and maybe Chad had got a little carried away in inviting extras but as he said, they needed a few women for variety and they all brought their own drink with them so it was all good.

Misha, at twenty five was slightly older than the majority of his friends; he'd spent a gap year doing aid work after pre-med. Dark haired with intense blue eyes, Misha was thoughtful and quirky but popular with the other students. Since moving out of the dorms the group had been forced to split into smaller units but they all still socialized regularly and Misha had been looking forward to catching up - they hadn't had a chance to really get together since before the exam revision period had started. Even he and Chad who had the lowest grades of the group had understood the need to get these exams under their belts; scores now could affect their choice of hospital when it came to being allocated placements and internships.

Misha had grown up as part of a close knit family of Russian immigrants with a particularly strong bond with his identical twin brother. The boys had been typical twins, sharing their own language and content to be best friends as well as siblings. They had grown even closer following their parents death six years ago and originally Yuri had moved to Portland with Misha, although he had chosen to work in a bar rather than go to University.

A couple of walk on parts in TV shows had made Yuri reassess his life and he’d moved to California two years previously where he now lived with his actress girlfriend, Stephanie. Misha still found it hard that he was separated from Yuri now, although he had understood his brothers Hollywood dream and the resulting move to LA that had come with it. Misha had instead poured all his affections into his closest friends, looking after them and becoming reliant on them in the same way he had been used to doing with Yuri.

As Partypocalypse™ got into it's full swing he scanned the room to check up on all his friends, something they'd all been doing lately. Since the third victim, when the term serial killer had started being bandied around, the students had all started being a lot more careful. The finding of a fourth body the previous weekend had added fuel to the flames of paranoia. All of the young male students phoned to check in with roommates if there was a change of plan and they always walked round in groups or pairs at the very least. Even tonight's party had been arranged around the fact that no strangers were to be invited and anyone who wasn't staying had someone to walk home with. Misha guessed it kind of put a damper on things but it was better to be safe than sorry. And still, even here in the safety of his friend's home, Misha felt the need to keep making sure everyone was safe and so far had only drunk a sedate couple of beers.

Steve, a stocky blonde was the oldest of their group but also one of the biggest party animals. He was bragging loudly that he was counting tonight a win because he'd just gotten head from one of the blonde freshmen he'd invited. Chris, if possible was usually even wilder than his friend. His dark hair and predilection for turquoise jewelery betrayed his Cherokee heritage. Tonight he'd added to the exotic effect by rimming his eyes with smoky black eyeliner. Despite the attention it was getting him from the girls and some of the guys who'd come along, he was at the moment, more interested in joining in the drinking discussion with Chad and Alex.

Chad was one of the closest friends Misha had made since coming to school. Misha found him an interesting and loyal companion although many people found it was hard to get beneath the surface image that Chad portrayed. The blonde played on the fact that he was the youngest of the group and always acted the clown but Misha knew that the kid had a heart of gold and was always ready to help out a friend - even if he did sometimes act like a douche while he was doing it!

Alex was a different kettle of fish entirely, a work out freak and adrenaline junkie he alternated between being too laid back for his own good and getting carried away on moralistic crusades. He was Hawaiian and scheduled his life around his fitness regime and his passion for extreme sports. How their group had come to be such a melting pot was anybody's guess but it worked for them. They were all easy going and many of them had blurred the lines with their sexuality. Alex was as tall and dark and classically handsome as it was possible to get, sadly he was one of the totally straight ones, which Misha thought was a real shame because he would totally like to tap that! Tribal tattoos traced over his upper arms, accenting the chiseled cut of his biceps. Misha also knew that he had the most amazing tramp stamp spread across his back, one day he was totally going to let Alex talk him into getting ink of his own.

The only person he needed to find now was Jared. Misha's totally best friend, house mate, lab partner and partner in crime. The crazy shit they had got up to was almost beyond believable in their first couple of years, everything from hood surfing to putting a lab skeleton in the Dean's car and calling it in to the Police as a suspected murder!

They'd mellowed a bit this year as they settled in to make sure that their social lives didn't affect their studies. Jared in particular had been steadied down by his boyfriend, Jensen and tried to persuade Misha that It was getting closer to the serious part of their studying now, it wasn't going to be long before they were let loose on actual patients after all. Misha had sort of agreed but he was never one to let too much study get in the way of a good party.

Misha prowled the house, he was pleased to see how well the party was going. He was a popular guy and his progress was slow because he had to keep stopping to chat with friends and acquaintances as he searched. He finally found Jared with Jensen, his boyfriend. They were have a sneaky make out session in the kitchen, half hidden in the shadowed end of the room by the back door. Jared looked up from sucking a sloppy hickey into Jensen's neck long enough to grin and say "chill, bro' it's all cool."

Reassured that everyone was here and happy, Misha allowed himself to finally knock back a couple of Tequila's, no reason why he shouldn't enjoy the party too. He wandered off to join Chad's game, a sure fire way of catching up with everyone else in the drinking stakes.

The party continued unabated until the early hours of the morning. Now the beers had long gone but the tequila was still flowing a little faster than was healthy. At least someone had had the munchies bad enough to order in several large pizza's, judging by the fact that they all contained pineapple it was probably Alex although whose Credit Card he'd charged it too was anyone's guess. This had gone a little way towards soaking up the alcohol and slowing down the pace a little. Misha had snagged a slice as he finally made his way back to the living room to mellow out and listen to the music.

Those of the students who were still conscious were all feeling more than a little reckless. The alcohol and weed was combining to make a heady mix with their general giddy sense of relief about the exams being over. Their recent sleep deprivation was beginning to tell, as they had all slept very little in the past week as they crammed for the hated tests. Misha himself held the record of staying awake for over forty eight hours in a row although he had caught up a bit recently. In some like Misha, this manifested itself as a air of happy lethargy while in others, like Chad, it lead to an almost manic state of hyperactivity.

As the night turned to early morning most of the extras had drifted off, back to their dorm rooms or frat houses. Leaving in small groups as the girls chose to chaperone the guys in a strange reversal of roles to get them safely home. The guys joked and teased about it but their humor was a thin veneer that overlaid their deeper discomfort. Finally only the core group of friends were left with just a few additional classmates who had decided to stay the distance.

Misha wasn't sure who started it, Chad maybe or Steve; both were totally wasted and although a number of drinking games had been suggested the one that seemed to meet with universal approval was a game of Chad's invention which was a devious combination of spin the bottle and gay chicken. The rules were fairly fluid but on the whole resulted in everyone consuming silly amounts of alcohol regardless of whether they were Chicken or not. It was a pretty obvious option because all the women had left by this point.

Jared was lolling on one end of the couch and watching Jensen playing his guitar over the other side of the room, Misha had snagged a cushion and was sitting on the floor in front of his friend, he was feeling too wasted to be bothered with anything right now. Misha took another draw on his joint before passing it up to Jared, "You up for it?" His face felt like it had fixed into a permanent grin, he could feel his eyes were hooded. The weed was strong and although he had a good buzz on it was making him strangely sleepy too. Jared took the joint and had a token drag before passing it onto Chad. "I totally ace this game every time," Jared whispered loudly. "See the whole point of gay chicken? it only really works if you're not actually gay!"

Misha grinned lazily as he lolled against Jared's legs, Jared was his best friend in the whole world, and big. Really, really big. he made an awesome thing to lean on when Misha was too stoned or too drunk to stand up by himself. Jared had an awesome boyfriend too, Jensen; but he wasn't big on party games so he was with Chris in the corner, singing softly as Chris played his guitar. They were mellow as . . . as . . .as really mellow things. The music was making little warm squiggles on his skin and maybe Misha had been smoking and drinking more than a little too much tonight; he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this wasted.

Jared was idly running his fingers through Misha's hair as they waited to see who would get the game started, it made Misha feel like purring, he could totally understand now why cats did. When one of his friend’s was affectionate with him like this Misha felt all warm and fuzzy inside, cared for; the ever present awareness of his twins absence receded to a distant place.

It seemed like there were about eight or ten of them playing, Misha wasn't really awake enough to be bothered with counting. Happy that he had all his guys together in one place, all sprawled in the living room; over the couch and chairs, or sitting on the rug to make an untidy sort of circle. Himself and Jared, Chad, Steve, Riley, Dave, Alex, a couple of guys he didn't really know but recognized from round campus, and Seb.

Misha had met Seb a couple of times lately, chatted to him after a couple of lectures, bumped into him in the bar on campus. He was quite a bit older than the rest of them obviously but he'd been really interesting to chat to that time in class. He'd proved to be just as interesting a social companion too. Witty and dry with a tinge of sarcasm all delivered deadpan with his formal English accent which was actually pretty sexy. It didn't hurt that he was easy on the eye either. Cornflower blue eyes and tanned skin, his mouth was small but had a sexy little curve to it that Misha was able to appreciate. Misha had felt sorry for the guy because he didn't seem to know many people in the area yet which was mainly why he'd invited him to the party. The fact that he had felt a growing spark of attraction for the older man had nothing to do with it at all.

Chad started the game off which really was no surprise, he was masterminding this whole thing after all and had been in the thick of things the whole night. His bottle spin won him Jared who he gave a very decorous peck on the cheek, much to the derision of the rest of the group. Jensen looked over and grinned fondly, "Keep it above the waist Jared okay? Anything lower than that is mine." Misha loved his best friend but not like that, he wasn't jealous of the relationship with Jensen. He smiled sleepily back and said, "Don't worry, lover; I'll keep your boy toy safe for you." Jensen laughed and flipped him the finger before suggesting another song to Chris and losing himself in their little musical bubble once more.

Jared spun the bottle again and laughed as it ended up facing towards them. "At least I don't have to go anywhere, he chuckled softly. leaning in close and goddamn purring in Misha's ear as he licked a stripe up his neck, finishing with a gentle bite to Misha's earlobe. Misha squirmed as Chad whooped and yelled. "Watch out, Jenny boy, these two are gonna be trouble."

"Your turn, Mish." Jared grinned saucily, "Or are you gonna forfeit?"  
Always up for the challenge Misha spun the bottle, watching as it revolved around to come to a halt in front of Seb. Misha grinned, taking a deep toke on the joint that had somehow made its way back to him, or maybe it was a new one, he was getting a little bit hazy on things now. "Ah man, "he groused, cheerfully, comfortable where he was leaning against Jared for support.  
"hey, Misha, you're not going to go chicken on me are you?" Seb taunted and there was a strange edge to his voice that sounded a lot like jealousy.  
And that was kind of a little weird considering where they'd met but a game was a game and why the hell not? As Misha started to move, Sebastian pulled him forward, away from Jared until they were both kneeling in the middle of the group, it was almost as though Sebastian was putting on a show for the onlookers. There was a definite challenge in the older mans eyes as he let just the tip of his tongue appear to moisten his lower lip.

Oh that was it! Misha was up to meet any challenge that could be thrown at him, he grabbed Sebastian and pulled the blonde man in for an open mouthed kiss, mashing their lips together, letting his tongue probe just a little way into Seb's mouth.. Misha's mouth felt sloppy and loose from the weed, teeth crashing a little because Misha was too spun out to try and be careful. He gave a little gasp as Sebastian matched him, pulling Misha's body flush against his and using his tongue to probe deep into Misha's mouth, taking over and taking control until Misha felt helpless to do anything but be manipulated by the man in front of him.

The other students were still laughing and cheering but suddenly Misha felt really uncomfortable. Sebastian seemed to be getting into this a little too much for just a game and he was beginning to feel almost claustrophobic. Just when he was about to push the taller man away, Sebastian pulled back with a grin and tossed back another shot of tequila before spinning the bottle with a flourish and moving on to Alex who chose to forfeit, chugging a whole tumbler of Tequila with barely a grimace.

Misha lost track of the game for a while; he had resettled himself with Jared and could feel himself drifting as his friend began to play with his hair again. He forfeited his next turn, opting to drink rather than play. He was feeling so good, warm and sleepy and he didn't want to move when Jared suggested it was time to head home, he shook his head. "S'cool, man. I'll just stay here." And indeed he was already more asleep than awake, sliding over to curl up on the floor as Jared extricated himself.

"Sure," Chad called, looking up from the make out session with Seb that was his current forfeit. "he can crash on the couch, don't sweat it Jare'."

Misha muttered something unintelligible as Jared lifted him up onto the couch and dozed for a while. When he woke up there was more drinking and another joint and suddenly Misha was feeling more than a little hot and giddy and he woozily got to his feet. He headed to the head, laughing at his own pun; he peed and then splashed cold water onto his hands and face. The cool liquid running over his skin felt good and he wandered out to the yard to get some fresh air. He suddenly felt the need to be in his own bed, maybe it was time to follow Jared home.

He wasn't too steady on his feet as he walked, realizing dimly that he was so much more out of it that he'd thought. He stumbled often and once he found himself on his knees on the sidewalk with no memory of how he got there. He felt like a little kid as he rolled up the knee of his jeans to look at the scraped patch of reddened skin. He realized blearily that perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, he should have done as Chad suggested and slept on the couch. He swayed and somehow ended up leaning on a wall, fuck! How did he get here? He slumped back and closed his eyes, he just needed a few minutes to get himself together, then maybe he'd call a cab or something, or try and find his way back to the party. If only he didn't feel so sick and confused, if only everything would just stop spinning for a while. He longed for his brother, Yuri, the sensible one. Always there to have Misha's back. Where was Yuri?

Dean Koontz wrote “Of all the things we can feel with our minds and bodies, severe pain is the purest, for it drives everything else from our awareness and focuses us as perfectly as we can ever be focused.”

 

Misha wasn't sure how long he leaned there, dazed and drifting. Although being outside in the cool, early morning air had cleared his head a little he still felt foggy and out of it. For about the first time ever he wished he hadn't partied quite so hard. He patted his pockets, trying to find his cell phone, calling a cab seemed like a really good idea now, even waking up Jared and begging him to come would be better than staying here. Fuck! He’d left the phone in his jacket which was currently hanging in Chad’s closet. He let himself drift away again, everything felt like too much trouble. Street sounds seemed oddly far away, the traffic just a distant hum.

He was shocked awake by a hand on his shoulder. "Ready to go home now sleepyhead?" The familiar European accent was gentle, even teasing.  
"Feel . . . feel so tired, need to get back." Misha mumbled.  
"It's all fine, everything's okay," Seb reassured. "I'll take you home with me."  
"Nah," Misha replied, shaking his head, he didn't want to got back with Seb, he wanted to be at the house with his Chad and Alex, or be home safe with Jared and Jensen. "I wanna go home, Seb, wanna sleep in my bed." he slurred.

Seb's face darkened, something angry and threatening marring his handsome features. "You're a tease, Misha," he spat out. "I could feel you wanting it, so hot and hard at the party, too late to back out now."  
"Hey, chill out, man!" Misha was genuinely confused, he felt suddenly sober, this situation was seriously fucked up. "It was a game, it was only a game!" He pleaded. His only answer was the other man pressing his knee between Misha's legs; grinding into him too hard, so that it was verging on painful and Misha was helpless, pinned against the wall.

Misha tried to struggle but Sebastian overpowered him easily; he was shocked as Sebastian pulled a hip flask from his jacket pocket, forcing the neck between Misha's lips. Misha gagged and choked as the spirit burned its way down his throat. Only when Sebastian seemed satisfied that it was all gone did he release his grip on the younger man.

"You're a fucking lunatic!" Misha spat out the words along with a mouthful of blood, the metal rim of the flask had cut his lip. He twisted again, desperate now to get away, his ears ringing and he could feel his blood pounding but even as he started to run, the lights of the street seemed to dim and the world lurched alarmingly. He could hear Sebastian behind him, and found himself swaying back into the older mans arms. He was vaguely aware of being lifted, carried to God knows where. Everything was so dark and so far away, his grip on consciousness a mere thread.

He sensed rather than saw the car, dropped like a stone to the ground as Sebastian let him go and then maneuvered him into the back seat. Sebastian was talking but Misha couldn't make out the words.

Misha listened to the drone of Sebastian's voice, not able to process what he was even saying any more, he groaned a little with the pain, and tried to lick his blood stained lips. "Help . . . help me!" he gasped.  
"Hush now, sweetheart, I've got you," and Sebastian's words held no hint of comfort , even as he spoke he was moving in, lips getting closer and just when Misha thought the older man was going to kiss him again he instead let his tongue swipe over Misha's bloodstained lips. Misha retched a little but managed not to be sick, his head was spinning again and he was aware of dark shapes beginning to dance in front of his eyes before everything went black as his eyes rolled up in his head.

 

********************

Jensen doubled over the sink in Jared’s bathroom and retched as he tried to wrangle out his contacts. Jared rubbed soothing circles on his back and helped him throw the disposable lenses away before he handed him the pain meds he'd got ready.  
"Thanks, Jare', I'm really sorry to drag you away from the party so early." Jensen whispered quietly.  
Jared hated seeing his lover looking so pained and miserable, they‘d been together properly for nearly six months now and Jared felt that their relationship was growing stronger all the time. Jensen stayed over at Jared’s most of the time now and especially when he was ill like this Jared wanted to take care of him however sappy that made him sound.  
"Hey, Jensen, it's cool, man. For a start 2am isn't early and secondly you did not drag me away. I chose to bring you home."  
Jensen nodded weakly, “yeah you did. Thank you.”  
"So, migraine, huh? Bad one?"  
Jensen was still gripping the cool porcelain of the sink as though his life depended on it. "Yeah, pretty bad and no warning this time, I was having such a good time at the party and I usually get a warning."  
“Well now, that's not fair,” Jared teased gently but he continued to soothe Jensen as they sat together in the cool of the bathroom. Jared had propped the door open and turned out the light so that they were sitting in the dim light thrown in from the hallway.

The floor was patterned with big old fashioned black and white tiles, they made Jared's eyes go funny on the best of days. He didn't know how Jensen could bear to be in here with a headache. Jared figured his lover's fear of throwing up was probably outweighing all other considerations at the moment.

Jensen let out a little huff, "You know what I mean, douche! If I'd had more warning it wouldn't have got this bad before I took my Imitrix."  
Jared was immediately contrite, "I'm sorry, I wish I'd remembered to check you had it with you before we went out."  
Jensen lolled against him for a while in silence. “You're not my mom,” Jensen pointed out gently. “I can manage to take care of my own meds.”  
“Except when you cant!” Jared teased.

“You and Misha seemed pretty snugly tonight,” Jensen observed quietly.  
"Jealous?" Jared asked softly, "Because dude, he's my best friend but I haven't, wouldn't . . . you know there's been no one else since we became exclusive, right? Hell! There's been no one else for me since the day you transferred in."  
Jensen smiled weakly, "You're such a sap. Nah, I was more worried about him actually, it must be hard for him seeing us all happy and shit. I wish he had someone special. He's a good guy."  
“Yeah,” Jared agreed he deserves that. “I got my hopes up for a while when Daneel started hanging around a lot but he seemed more taken with Gen. I don't think he knows what he wants really."

“Nah,” Jensen said softly. “I think maybe chicks aren't really his thing, he's just not ready to admit it yet.”  
“You're full of useful insights tonight aren't you.” Jared observed. It was a thought that had crossed his own mind more than once.

“Being the only, mostly sober one at a party does that to you,” Jensen said wryly. “It gives you lots of time for people watching.” He turned his head experimentally from side to side. "I think I'm good to go, wanna help me to bed now? Not that I'm gonna be any use tonight."  
Jared snorted as he helped Jensen to his feet. "I can wait till the morning, besides I think I'm ready to sleep for a week now anyway."  
"At least we get the whole weekend in bed, can't imagine anyone we left at the party being sober before Monday anyway."  
"Mmmm! A whole weekend in bed with you, can't imagine anywhere I'd rather be." Jared pressed a kiss to his boyfriends temple as they headed into the bedroom.  
"Jensen grinned weakly, "Sounds like we have a plan then."

It didn't take them long to undress and then Jensen climbed into bed, with Jared soon there too. Jared curled round his lover, holding him protectively and they were asleep within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

Evelyn Scott wrote:  
"with me all night  
Pain sends out long tentacles  
And sucks.  
When I have given up struggling  
He takes me into his arms."

 

It took a long while for Misha to complete his struggle back to consciousness. There were what felt like hours where he drifted in and out, not sure what was real and what was dreaming. There was a time when he was aware of his skin itching and crawling or pain that made him gasp and curse but it wasn't enough to pull him to a place where he could open his eyes.

Finally he crawled his way closer to consciousness and was aware of being cold and lying on something hard, his head throbbed and there were star bursts of pain throughout his body but he thought he was finally awake. As he opened his eyes and they become accustomed to the dim light he tried to figure out where he was.

It was cool wherever he was and mostly dark, he was in a bathroom that he didn’t recognize, it was lit only by a deep blue light filtering in through the shuttered windows of the adjoining bedroom. He didn't know how long he'd been out for so it could be dawn or dusk. He knew he was in deep, deep shit, he knew in his gut what had happened. That somehow whoever had taken him was the flayer or the skin ripper or whatever lunatic name the papers were calling him by this week.

How could he have been so stupid? He had known he was vulnerable but even then he'd let his guard down and put himself in a dangerous situation. Misha tried to rack his fogged brain, trying to remember how he had got here but there was no clue in his mind. He vaguely remembered the party and taking to Jared in the kitchen but nothing after that.

He was half lying, half sitting in some sort of door-less shower stall, huddled on cold, white tiles with his wrists shackled together above his head. He moaned weakly as he tried to make himself more comfortable. Goose bumps pebbled his skin as he realized he was naked. He was hurting, hurting bad; there was a burn in his ass and thighs that gave him a horrible sick feeling. He knew there was only one thing that could have left him feeling like that. His head ached and he was aware of every bone in his body as if he‘d been hit by a truck. Pulling against his restraints Misha found he was chained firmly and though he struggled there didn't seem any way out of them. His movements only served to pull the cuffs tighter and make them chafe his wrists.

"Help!" he called weakly, "Help me! please . . . " He listened but couldn't hear any signs that anyone else was around. He pulled again at the shackles that pinioned his arms but there was no relief from the pain. He had to settle for wriggling himself a little more upright by a few meager inches so that he was able to give his tortured muscles a little respite. His mouth was dry and tasted metallic and off somehow, his head throbbed painfully and he felt as though he was bruised all over.

Misha figured right now that was the least of his worries, he took a deep breath and tried to check out his surroundings. He guessed he must be in someone’s house, its seemed like a house anyway, not a shed or a basement. Just a normal room, it was surprisingly bland though, more like a hotel room. It offered no clues as to his captors personality. The walls were a pale color, it was too dim to see properly what yet, there was no carpet on the floor, only some sort of washable lino. The door that led out of the tiled room that he was in opened onto a large bedroom. From what he could see neither room contained much in the way of furniture. Just the bed and a dresser and a small night stand through there. No photo's or pictures adorned the walls, not even a lampshade, nothing to give any indication as to who this guy really was.

The doorway gave a direct view of the wet room where Misha was huddled and Misha felt dreadfully exposed. The bedroom door was directly opposite the bathroom so he would be on display to anyone who came in. There was no sound, either from inside the house or outside on the street.

Misha could feel everything in his head spinning again, thoughts and realizations warring with the pain and shock and he closed his eyes, hoping to force the feeling away. All it did was intensify things and he let himself float away into the blissful realm of ignorance as he drifted into unconsciousness once more.

When he awoke for the second time, weak daylight light was filtering in through the curtains and he was aware of gentle hands stroking his body. As the memories of where he was flooded his mind he reflexively flinched away, trying to curl in on himself.  
"Naughty, naughty, Misha, my love. Be a good boy and let me clean you up." Misha opened his eyes fully and saw Sebastian kneeling over him in the shower stall, a damp wash cloth in his hand.

Sebastian! it was . . . how could he? Misha tried to push the horror away as it surged through him, realizing what Sebastian had done, what he was. Oh fuck, no! he couldn't have, wouldn't have. Sure he had only met the man a couple of times but he knew him, for Gods sake! fuck! he would have called the man friend up until now.

"Now don't be like that, sweetheart," the other man drawled as Misha backed further into the corner in his desperation to try and get away.  
"I was trying to be nice but I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way."  
Fuck! Misha should have known better than to try and antagonize the other man before he'd tried to suss out the situation properly. Although the older man was still smiling pleasantly his eyes held a cold malicious glint to them that made Misha shiver.

Sebastian unhooked a long pipe that was hung on the wall, although it was connected to the shower it was unlike any shower hose Misha had ever seen before, much longer than normal and thin and tapering towards the tip.  
"Do you know what you smell like Misha? Days of sweat and piss and shit? I'm not going to sully myself with you the way you are at the moment." his tone was light and conversational despite his words. He turned the dial on the wall and aimed a jet of icy cold water at Misha that made him gasp and struggle to avoid it. The rush of water was so intense it was painful as it hit and the cold made his teeth shake.

Sebastian was relentless, the cold began to feel like it was entering deep into his bones and he couldn't escape it. As the water was suddenly aimed at his face Misha gasped and choked, the water making him splutter. The shock of it made his lungs ache and he heaved to spit the water out, squeezing his eyes shut as he pleaded with the older man to stop. It just went on and on though, Sebastian barely even paused when he flipped Misha over, using the hose on his thighs and legs. Misha was almost screaming now, he couldn't help himself, he knew with a sick certainty how Sebastian was going to end this and he didn't know if he could bear it.

When it came he could only be thankful that Sebastian had dialed down the water pressure so the worst thing about the intrusion was the cold, forcing the icy water up inside him. He was shaking so hard now his head was banging against the tiles and he was unable to do anything to prevent it, his hands still forced above his head.

Now the feeling in his ass was becoming unbearable and he was still screaming and begging Sebastian to stop with no obvious effect. Finally Sebastian moved the hose back onto Misha legs and as he gasped his relief from the hose's intrusion his stomach began to cramp and he sobbed in shame as he voided himself into the shower stall.

Sebastian continued using the hose to alternately spray Misha with the icy water and use it to abuse him until Misha was dizzy and sick, his stomach sore and he was on the verge of passing out. He had given up screaming and now just whimpered softly, too weak and in too much pain to resist as Sebastian finally put the hose away and undid the shackles that held him to the wall.

Sebastian half dragged half carried him through to the bedroom and deposited him onto the bed. There was some sort of plastic sheeting spread over the mattress and Misha was unable to do anything but lie there as he was propped on a couple of pillows with a similar covering. The plastic felt, scratchy and alien against his skin but nothing had ever felt as horrifying as Sebastian's long slim fingers stroking his face.

As Misha struggled weakly to get away the older man leaned over and snagged a knife from the nightstand. “Lie quiet, little one,” he hissed, drawing the blade gently down Misha’s cheek, not enough to cut, just enough that Misha knew it was there. Misha stilled instantly. Even though Sebastian’s voice and hands were tender there was something so totally unhinged in the other mans ice blue stare it shook Misha to the core.

That's much better, sweetheart," Sebastian purred, leaning in close to press the tip of the blade to Misha's throat as he caressed his cheek with his free hand. Misha fought to repress the shudder of revulsion. “Please,” he whispered. He could feel the burn of the blade as it nicked his flesh, could picture the crimson of his blood as he felt it well up and roll down his neck.

“Twenty four year old student, beaten, sexually assaulted, cut. . . .cut . . . cut . . .” the words from the newscast dropped into his brain with an almost audible clang. Fuck this was, Seb was . . . fuck! the depths of the trouble Misha was in began to finally fill his pain fogged brain. “Please, I'll . . . please.” Misha knew how far Sebastian was prepared to take this, he'd seen the descriptions in the media of how the other bodies had been mutilated.

“You'll what, Misha?” Sebastian rocked back onto his heels, and Misha had never felt so vulnerable in his entire life as he did now under that soulless pale scrutiny. He forced himself to hold on with every fiber of strength he had left in his body.

Desperately Misha tried to figure out what the other man wanted to hear, he knew like a punch to the gut that he wouldn't make it out of here alive if he didn't give the right answer. He forced himself to meet the older mans gaze, hoping against hope that this was what he wanted. He gave a little shift of his hips and then let the tip of his tongue show between his lips.  
“Anything, Seb, I'll do anything.”  
“Good boy,” Sebastian smiled his approval, the knife tracing a delicate line down Misha's throat, cutting deeper as he drew the blade back over his shoulder. As tears began to roll down Misha's face Sebastian leaned forward and began to suckle at the wound, lapping and pulling at the slit flesh to encourage the flow of blood. He moaned his pleasure as a counterpoint to Misha's sobs of distress.

 

************

 

It never really got dark in LA, the faint orange glow of the streetlights carrying over the time between dusk and dawn. The air in that pre-dawn gloom was as cool as it was going to get but was still hot and humid. All over the city life still teemed, late night party goers weaving their way home, shift workers and cleaning staff as well as the seedier aspects of the night world. Pimps and prostitutes, pushers and peddlers were coming to the end of their working day.

Having had a grueling day on set Yuri was fast asleep when the phone call came, curled tight around his beloved Stephanie, sleeping in that state of soundness that only post-coital bliss can bring.  
At the shrill noise of his cell phone they both startled awake, Stephanie sitting bolt upright as Yuri groped for the phone. He felt that terrible lurch in his stomach as he saw the time glowing on the alarm clock, 3am phone calls are never good news.

He answered hesitantly, “Hello, who is this?” There was silence for a moment, just a hitched, gasping breath before the caller finally said, “It’s Jared.”  
Jared, his brothers roommate, ah fuck! This had to mean Misha was in trouble.

“Misha, what’s wrong with him?” His brother wasn’t dead, couldn’t be, Yuri would know as sure as if his arm was cut off if Misha was actually dead.  
“He’s missing, Yuri. . . I think he might have been gone for days and I can’t make the campus security listen to me. I know students run off all the time but we both know Misha wouldn't do that and . . . and . . .”  
Yuri could hear the panic rising in Jared’s voice, felt a mirror of it building in his own chest.  
“And what, Jared? What aren’t you telling me?” The silence was deafening as Jared paused for the longest time. Then the silence was broken by Jared's breathing, hitched gasps of a pain that sounded almost physical.

Despite the other man’s obvious distress Yuri wanted to scream at him to hurry up, he felt like he was going to explode with the fear and adrenalin that was racing through his body. He could feel his brain disconnect into two separate halves, part of him willing Jared to hurry up and answer, part of him running through his finances as he worked out which card to use to book his flight.

"There’s a . . . there’s this psycho loose up here, Yuri." Jared admitted, softly. "An honest to God serial killer, he's abducting and torturing male students, holding them for days before he murders them."  
Yuri couldn't speak, his shock and fear was so overwhelming, stars danced before his eyes as he gripped the phone so tightly it hurt, he body beginning to shudder convulsively.  
"I’m scared, Yuri." Jared continued. "It’s just not like Misha to disappear like this, there’s something really wrong. I think you need to come to Portland.”

Yuri suddenly felt a wave of pain so intense he was afraid he would black out. He clutched his side as he doubled over in agony. Stephanie held on to him as he swayed, his hand seeking hers and holding tight to reassure himself of her presence. He clung to her, unable to do anything but ride the wave of pain. She had been listening over his shoulder, now she gently took the phone from his hand.  
“Hi, Jared, It’s Stephanie. Are you on your own?"  
"No, no. My boyfriend's with me. Some of our friends are coming over now too."  
"Good, its important that you're not on your own right now. Can you give me your cell phone number? I’ll get Yuri on a plane as soon as possible, okay? I’ll call you as soon as I have a flight time. Can you meet him at the other end?”  
They chatted for a few moments more as she tried to calm Jared down and they sorted out travel details, Jared promising to meet Yuri at the airport.

When she’d finished talking she got up and pulled a flight bag out of the closet, “Yuri, babe?” He watched her pack his stuff, trying to fight the waves of nausea that were now crashing over him.

“Misha,” he whispered, “please hold on, I’m coming.” he knew now that his twin was alone somewhere, scared and sick and hurting.  
Stephanie abandoned what she was doing and came to sit with him on the bed. As she rubbed soothing circles on his back Yuri began to slowly uncurl.  
“I can feel it, Steph. It hurts so bad; he’s in terrible pain somewhere, I know it.” Stephanie nodded her understanding, she had seen on more than one occasion examples of the almost spooky bond between her partner and his identical twin.

She stayed with him, comforting him until the pain and sickness receded and he kissed her briefly before grabbing his jeans from the bedroom floor. She left him sitting on the bed and went to finish packing for him. “I’m so sorry I can't come with you, love." she apologized, "I have to work this week but if you need me I’ll follow you out as soon as I can.”

Once he was dressed he stood up and grabbed her into his arms where he hugged her tight for a long moment, he felt as though he were physically drawing strength and comfort through her touch. He knew he needed to be strong for Misha.

Eventually they were both dressed and Stephanie made coffee as Yuri frantically trawled the internet for the earliest possible flight. He couldn't stop himself from checking the details of this supposed serial killer and saw with a sinking heart how closely his brother resembled the other victims in terms of age and location. As he read the description of the most recent victims injuries, set out in lurid details on a tabloid paper's website he couldn't peel his eyes away, transfixed by the grainy image of the crime scene photograph until Stephanie leaned over and turned the computer off with a soft click. "Don't torture yourself, babe" she advised. He felt another rush of nausea but this time he wasn't sure if it was his own or his brother's that he was feeling.

 

************

 

Craig Sampson didn't know how many lives he'd helped to save over the years. More than even they realized he guessed if you added in all the potential victims and the possible partners or copycats the others would have spawned if not caught. He didn't have any of their special skills, he was weapons trained and carried a gun but had never fired it off the range. He knew he wasn't dynamic and handsome like Morgan or Hotch, he wasn't intelligent and reasoning like Rossi or even a natural genius like Reid. But still, he was an invaluable member of the team and they wouldn't be as good as they were without him.

He smiled to himself as he made the necessary pre-flight checks, his bird was always ready for a take off with thirty minutes notice. Craig chose to spend most of his waking hours hanging out on the base just so as to be ready when his team needed him. He kept the Jet fueled and checked and perfect. The first thing he did each time they landed was check the Jet was restocked with all the things they liked, the little comforts they appreciated.

Morgan was a true soldier, he lived by the motto of eat and sleep while you can because you don't know when you'll get another chance. Accordingly Craig kept the small galley stocked with sandwiches and fruit, knowing that Morgan always ate like a horse on the outward journey, preparing himself for the rigors ahead. Prentiss worked along a similar theory but she preferred juice and power bars. He always kept a bottle of orange soda on board for the rare occasions when Penelope Garcia traveled with them. He knew his computer geeks and they all had a thing for orange soda. Even the stash pretzels, crisps and nuts were regularly topped up ready for the poker and other card games they played to unwind on their homeward journey.

The bottle of single malt was always left untouched till the return journey but then it was usually enjoyed by Rossi and Hotch as they celebrated a successful case or chased away the nightmares when they were too late.

Yes, Craig thought as he went through his preparations, Hotch might be the Daddy of their little family but he was the Mom; working behind the scenes to make sure everyone was happy and fed and had the little treats that made their hellish job just that little bit easier. He still thought with regret of Elle who had left so suddenly; it made him sad that no one had seen until too late how damaged she'd been by her experiences. JJ too had left a gaping hole in their midst that was hard for them to heal.

In fact the only agent to move on that he didn't really miss was Jason Gideon; in Craig's opinion the man had never got the memo that their was no I in team. He'd unsettled the others and had cared more about the job than about their welfare. It wasn't until he went and Rossi came on board that the group had truly become a family. Now they worked and socialized together, thinking as a single unit, anticipating each others needs and wants. That was why they were the best, why they were able to work so well together.

Craig might be on the periphery of things but he took his duties very seriously - he got them where they needed to be as fast as possible, made sure they were safe and comfortable on their journey. He'd earned his share of their saves over the years, without him they would have been too late far too many times.

 

***********************

 

"Okay, Team, what have we got?" Aaron Hotchner, head of the BAU's most elite team of profilers was tired, his sleep broken by another night of Jack's bad dreams. They were much rarer now but they were real doozies when they came. Somehow it seemed as though they were harder to deal with now they weren't part of a routine, or maybe Hotch was just getting older and missing his sleep more.

He had distracted his son with a midnight feast of cookies and milk and the little boy had finally settled after three am and then Hotch himself had been wide awake, unable to even contemplate going back to sleep. He had been reading cold case notes and searching them for promising cases since then, buoyed up by a large pot of bitter, black coffee. He had found three possible cases but when he arrived Prentiss had greeted him with the news that they had a hot one, a case where they could still make a difference.

Hotch was aware that his eyes were ringed with dark circles and knew that while he looked as well turned out as usual, he was surrounded by the few people he could never hide how he was feeling from. Rossi was looking at him keenly from across the conference table, his colleague and friend raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, and Hotch gave the briefest of nods back. He was fine; he reassured his friend in an almost telepathic gesture. He always was as long as he could keep working.

The team were all assembled round the table in the briefing room at Quantico. The Behavioral Analysis Unit was a division of the FBI set up to profile serious, serial offenders; those murderers, rapists and kidnappers whose crimes were too horrendous for most people to bear thinking about. Daily this team of specialists looked into the abyss as they examined the minds of some of the country’s most deranged criminals.

Hotch looked round the table at his team as Prentiss handed out packets of documents. They'd been working together for years now, were as close as family; he had come to rely on them as far more than just work colleagues. Along with Dave Rossi, who was the teams' lead psychologist and serial killer specialist and Hotch himself, who came up through the ranks with a legal background; were Dr Spencer Reid. The man- child who'd never managed to shake off the social gracelessness bestowed by years of fast tracking. What he lacked in social skills he made up for with an eidetic memory and a genius mind, making leaps of thought and links that others just weren't capable of. He scanned the documents in front of him with furious concentration, his finger rapidly moving down each page.

Derek Morgan was the teams tactician, weapons expert, SWAT team head and sometime leader of the BAU. He was practically a super hero, although occasionally his disregard for his own well being made him a bit of a loose canon. He studied the photographs in his packet first, trying to get a feel for the Unsub by looking at the victims.

Then there was Emily Prentiss, even after four years she was still a bit of an enigma to Hotch but she was loyal and smart and knew her way round a gun; Hotch was always confident at a scene when he knew she had his back. She was still smarting from the forced departure of their colleague, JJ. This would have been her job, disseminating information, handling new cases, they all still missed her.

And finally Penelope Garcia who was accessing her information through her laptop, she skipped past the photographs, concentrating instead on the victims' backgrounds. That would be where she started her work when they'd finished the briefing. Her colorful and ditzy appearance hid a keen mind and genius level computer skills. Of all of them she found the grim realities of their job the hardest to cope with but her computer backup was largely responsible for their high solve rate. Their team had one of the highest solve rates in this specialized arena. No one else had caught or tracked down as many of the bastards as they had.

Hotch forced himself back to the matter in hand as Prentiss clicked the remote for the vid screen and four pictures of dead bodies popped up in rapid succession, causing Garcia to give a little gasp and duck her head in horror at the severity of the mutilation. Morgan put his hand on her arm in a gesture of support.

"Portland, Oregon," Prentiss began. "We have four bodies so far, all white males aged 20 - 24, all students although not from the same campus. So far there are no known points of contact, the victims apparently have no connection to each other. All the bodies have been partially exsanguinated, drained of large quantities of blood; they'd all been raped and subjected to sexually sadistic torture." She looked round the room, "This is a bad one, guys." she concluded. Portland PD are asking for us to help and quickly, they think he's due to kill again, soon.

Hotch nodded looking round the table, his eyes again drawn to the crime scene photos; while not exactly posed the bodies had all been left face down displaying the fact that the corpses backs had all been mutilated, skin flayed right off in places, in others crisscrossed with deep cuts. The wounds gaped pale, all the blood had apparently been washed off. Smaller photo's in the corner of each picture showed the young men as they had been in life, drivers license pictures or student ID's.

Hotch studied the photographs carefully. The young men were all of differing physical types although all were undoubtedly good looking. One from the med school was a surfer type with bleach blonde hair; another from one of the teacher training facilities was tall and sporty. The youngest had been doing a degree in psychology and he was handsome enough to have been a model. The most recent victim had been studying for a social work degree and was dark skinned with deep brown eyes. On the surface they all seemed so very different. In a city of nearly 600,000 people it might be hard to find connections but if anyone could do it was his team.

"Garcia, can you run further checks on these men, their phone records, their credit cards; see if you can find any connections that Portland PD might have missed. Try Student clubs and societies, interest groups and night clubs that do student nights to start with. Emily, what's the time line on this?"

Prentiss looked down at her notes. "First victim, Ryan Casinelli, first year med student was three months ago. the others at two to three week intervals since then. The Unsub was taking them on a Friday or Saturday, the bodies were typically not found until at least two weeks later."

Rossi continued, looking up from the reports that he was studying. "They've all been beaten to death, in a blitz attack, severe blows to the head, face and body. The Unsub is angry with them, to an extreme degree. They do something that he doesn't like or trigger him in some way. They have all been subject to extreme blood letting prior to death and these exsanguinations and subsequent anemia meant they were incredibly weak at the time of the final attacks and unlikely to survive that type of punishment." He indicated the third picture, "However this one, Toby Graham, was just alive when they found him. Sadly he never regained consciousness and died shortly after he got to the hospital, he didn't manage to impart any information. The official cause of death was head trauma but he was also severely anemic and had the same cut marks that are the unsub's signature over the majority of his back."

"The Unsub appears to be speeding up, de-compensating," Rossi commented and Hotch nodded his agreement. Spence checked the notes he'd been scribbling against the information appearing on the screens in front of them. "The gap between the offenses is getting closer. He was having a break of a couple of weeks before taking his next victim but the last one he only waited six days for."  
"Look at the time of deaths against the disappearance times," Morgan said suddenly, "He's been keeping them alive for days, weeks even in some cases."  
"so why does he kill them?" Rossi mused. Hotch turned his gaze to Dr Reid, the man often had a different way of looking at things that made his insights useful. "So, what do you think, Spence? what does this mean?"

Young Dr Reid looked up, running his hand back through his dirty blonde hair, his eyes, dark ringed and serious peered out from behind horn rimmed spectacles today. They made him look like a child wearing adult spectacles, adding to the impression of youth he gave off. It was disarming to some people and they made the mistake of writing him off because of it. Hotch knew better than that now, after working with Reid for over six years Hotch respected and valued his insights.  
"Well they've all been repeatedly sexually assaulted, tortured and beaten. Again the levels of violence in the final assault is escalating. I would say there's been some kind of stressor, there's something these men do that tips him over the edge. To begin with he is acting out his sadistic fantasies and that calms the rage he feels inside but then something happens and he loses control."  
"What about the body dumps?" Morgan asked, knowing it was sometimes key to the profile in establishing the unsub's behavior patterns and comfort zones." "Are they displayed, sexually positioned, where is the Unsub leaving them?"

Prentiss indicated the grim pictures on the screen behind her. "These are all the initial crime scene photo's. Alley's, the backs of bars, areas frequently used by sex workers and drug dealers. These boys aren’t hidden though, he wants them found or his work appreciated. The bodies are all prone, their backs showing none of the random violence inflicted on the rest of the body, here our Unsub is careful, precise, he uses a knife to carve neat lines, some deep some barely breaking the surface of the skin. Although it looks horrific this is done carefully and deliberately and over a period of time. If we look at Ryan Cassinelli we can see cuts in stages of healing from over two weeks to just a few hours."

Hotch nodded, he needed to get this one, needed to stop it now. "Got your go bags? Wheels up in 30 minutes."

 

*************************

 

On the jet they settled themselves in their usual places and began to sift through the document packets that had been assembled for them. Morgan flipped out his phone and speed dialed #1 for Garcia.  
"Baby girl, I'm looking at the time line. I think he's probably got another one already, can you check any missing persons in the age bracket for the past week?"  
"Oh God!" Garcia blinked rapidly from behind her red framed glasses and began to type briskly, "Okay, it's coming through. Narrowing the time frame . . . yeah! So three are girls, not them obviously and two guys."

"Okay" she continued keying in information to get the results she wanted, her fingers a blur of speed over the keyboard, nails painted lime green to match her glasses, a matching flower in her currently auburn hair.

“Right, the first one turned up again the next day, okay this is our man. Misha Collins, age twenty five, he's a third year student at the medical school.” A photograph popped up on the phone screen and was instantly relayed to the laptops and PDA's of the rest of the team. It showed a dark haired young man with piercing blue eyes and high, chiseled cheekbones. Even in the Student ID photo it was possible to see the humor and intelligence that radiated from his handsome face.

Garcia continued reading from the report in front of her, even though she'd already e-mailed it to the rest of the team already. "His roommate, Jared Padalecki reported him missing when he didn't come home from a party on Friday of last week, due to a misunderstanding about his whereabouts his disappearance wasn't noticed for a few days."

"Nine days, Morgan, he's had this boy for nine days already." She whispered brokenly. The distress in her voice was obvious and heartbreaking; she wasn't as good as the others at remaining detached enough to work and Morgan loved her for it.

"It's okay, baby girl,” he soothed. “We're gonna get him back, you just keep working your magic."  
"That's good Garcia, well done. Can you cross reference this new one with the other vics, see if he knew them or crossed paths with them somehow?" Hotch asked; trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice, glad Morgan was still picking up the slack and holding the team together.  
"Yes, Sir. On it. Garcia out."

Hotch moved to a bench seat at the back of the cabin, he hoped he'd be able to grab a few hours sleep now that he read the material. He needed to be fresh for the case, he wanted so badly to be able to save this kid . . . Misha. He needed to be able to bring Misha home, each save going on the balance sheet against the ones he lost.

 

*****************

 

Misha sat up carefully, still racked with pain; even that slight movement made his head throb and the nausea rise in his throat, he rubbed his sore wrists very gingerly. Sebastian had finally cut the plastic ties that had held Misha in place, bound him to the bed frame for the past couple of days, punishment for not responding in the way Sebastian wanted him to. His arms ached unbearably from being forced into an unnatural position for so long and his hands tingled and stung as the blood started to flow.

As he watched in repelled fascination, his skin began to ooze blood as it returned to the areas that had been chafed by the bonds. Misha felt dizzy and sluggish as he watched the blood well up, forming droplets that swelled into pearls and threatened to drip onto the bed. He wasn't usually squeamish but the way it seemed to happen in slow motion added to the sense of unreality that was the result of the terrible situation he found himself in.

Sebastian gave a small groan of pleasure, excited by the blood droplets, his pale blue eyes lit with a sick fire. He grabbed the abused wrist and licked a stripe up the tender flesh, taking in the blood and letting it roll down over his tongue. “Ah Misha, my love.” He moaned in appreciation, feeding his sick mind with the fulfillment of his bizarre fantasies. “You taste so good, I'm going to taste every inch of you.”

Misha said nothing, forcing himself to keep breathing steadily, fighting against the rolling waves of nausea that threatened to overpower him. Outwardly he allowed no flicker of his disgust to show, he just dumbly allowed his other wrist to rise up for Sebastian's attention. Misha watched the man licking the injured flesh with tiny cat like motions that made Misha want to pull away. He wanted nothing more than to recoil screaming but he forced himself to be still and endure it. He had already learned the hard way that there were much, much worse things Sebastian could be doing to him.

"There now, darling boy." Sebastian smiled when he finished, lips still tinged pink with Misha's blood. "You've been so good I think you've earned a bath. Let's get you cleaned up."

Misha tried to sit up, leaning forward and shuffling to the edge of the bed. It amazed him how much effort it took, trying to mobilize limbs that had been held still for so long. Agonizing cramps began to rack Misha’s back and shoulders, the pain of disobeying Sebastian forcing the lesson home until Misha was practically crying. Now Sebastian was once more the caring, attentive lover, warming his hands and massaging the stiff muscles until the cramps eased out. Only when Misha was more comfortable did Sebastian urge him to try and stand.

In the end Sebastian had to practically carry Misha to the Bathroom, Misha was horrified to find that his legs wouldn't hold him. He hadn't been allowed to eat much during the time Sebastian had held him captive and he felt exhausted and spacey, he was beyond hungry. Nausea churned in his belly and the feel of the man on his skin and in his flesh made him want to retch. he was dazed though and all the fight had gone out of him, it was too much effort merely to stay conscious.

Sebastian was being so gentle with him now, and somehow that was even more terrifying than when the man was being the blood thirsty tormentor. it was as though he could turn on a dime, one moment tender and considerate, the next a sadistic psychopath.

For now he was behaving as though he and Misha were actually lovers, helping him to sit on the closed toilet seat while he ran the bath, testing it so that the water didn't get too hot. Even adding antibacterial wash to the water and swirling it round to make bubbles. All the time he worked he chatted to Misha about inconsequential nothings, told him about his day at work, how his research project was going. Misha could do nothing but listen and nod dumbly whenever Sebastian looked at him. Once he deemed the water ready he lifted Misha once more into his arms, surprisingly strong as he lowered the young man into the water.

Misha closed his eyes as the warm water swirled around him, it stung a little at first but then the warm water became soothing to skin that was painful from the bites and lacerations on his torso, easing the terrible burning ache in his ass.

He let out a small sigh of pleasure, happy to be free of the pain just for a few moments and Sebastian benignly smiled his approval. Sebastian kept up his lover-like behavior, using a wash cloth to careful wipe Misha's face, trickling water back over Misha's scalp. He was gentle but thorough as he washed Misha's hair, working a sweet smelling shampoo into a lather, his fingers working on Misha's scalp to drive away the pain. His fingers in Misha's hair felt amazing, finding pressure points and working out tension.

Buoyed up by the warm water Misha felt himself begin to drift, it was so easy to pretend it was someone else who was holding him and tending him like this. Some mystery lover or even Jared. Jared had taken care of him when he had the flu once, had washed him and helped him to eat, kept him company as he sweated out the fever lying on the couch. Easier to imagine that than face the reality of Sebastian’s hands on him again, lifting him from the water, drying him, rubbing something cold and soothing onto his cuts, using two fingers to press some up into his ass as Misha let out a tiny hitched moan at the intrusion but he relaxed again as Sebastian made it clear that he didn't intend doing anything else for the moment.

When Sebastian seemed happy that Misha was tended to and clean he wrapped him in a large towel and left him slumped in the corner of the room as he went about the business of cleaning up behind them. Misha watched him for a few minutes but couldn’t make his eyes stay open; the effort of the bath and the preceding muscle cramps had exhausted him.

He must have drifted off to sleep in the bathroom because the next thing he knew he was back on the bed, unchained though and comfortably supported on pillows, covered now by a thin sheet. Sebastian smiled as Misha's eyes opened and he handed him a plastic mug of soup. "Here you go, sweetheart. You see what rewards you get for being good?"

Misha accepted the mug but he couldn't bring himself to thank his captor for it. There was only so far he was willing to play along with Sebastian's sick little games, he wasn't quite at the point yet where he could thank the bastard for giving him what was actually a basic human right.

Sebastian left him alone to drink. "Rest now, Misha love. I've got some good games for us to play, you'll need to keep your strength up for later."

 

*****************************************

 

Jared Padalecki was a big guy, at least 6' 4" and well built with it. He still managed to look impossibly small as he slumped miserably in his seat, long legs stuck out awkwardly at the side of the desk. He was wrapped in a large hoodie that only helped fuel the illusion that Emily was talking to an overgrown child. Tiredly he rubbed at his temples and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes were dark circled and it was obvious that concern for his friend had left him drained and exhausted. Emily knew that he was willing to cooperate but his very concern would make it difficult, knotting him up with tension and making him forget the simplest of things and embroider other facts with things he thought she wanted to hear.

Hotch had suggested that Prentiss interview the roommate; Padalecki wasn’t a suspect but had been one of the last people to see Misha and the first to notice the student was missing. Hotch had been afraid that obvious authority figures like himself, Rossi or Morgan would make him clam shut with anxiety. “Be gentle with him,” Hotch had warned, “He might have a lead and God knows we need it!”

"You're doing fine, Jared.” Emily soothed, trying her best to project calm and confidence, hoping to put the student at ease. "just try and remember when you noticed Misha hadn't come home."  
"Sure er Miss Prentiss, I wish I could be more helpful . . .” He trailed off and licked his lips, running a hand back through his floppy brunette hair. “Its just, well, the party got really wild. We were all kicking back you know? Misha was there with me most of the evening but then my . . . Jensen had a headache so we left.”  
She could see the regrets and the “if only's” rushing across his face, haunting him as he longed for the clock to turn back.

Emily had seen this with so many of the family and friends of their victims before; she longed to have JJ back, knowing the other woman had a special skill for coaxing information out of these people. It was nothing like interrogating suspects, nothing like that dance of cobras, seeing who could outsmart who. This was far more delicate, teasing out the grains of information from the chaff of emotions and fear.

“I asked Misha if he wanted to head back with us but he seemed pretty keen to stay where he was. They were playing at this stupid drinking game and Misha was so . . . well, he was pretty insistent that he wasn‘t going anywhere. Chad said he could sleep the night but then when Misha wasn't there later on he assumed that he'd left with us anyway. So it wasn't until a couple of days later we figured he was missing.” He peered up at her with red rimmed exhausted eyes. “I thought he was safe there.” His eyes begged for forgiveness that wasn’t hers to give.

"So how was Misha when you left? Was there anything unusual about his behavior?" She coaxed the young student as gently as possible, trying to keep him on track. She knew that she couldn‘t afford to let him get lost in his guilt at not keeping his friend safe.

"He seemed fine you know? I mean I guess we were all a little tired, we'd had a lot of tests and exams that week. We'd all er . . ." Jared looked down at the table again and began picking his nails, hesitating over how to continue.  
"Jared, its okay," Emily realized suddenly what was behind his reticence. "We're here to catch a serial killer and stop your friend becoming his next victim. You're not going to get in trouble for getting drunk and smoking a couple of joints."  
"How did you . . .?"  
She smiled at him, dark eyes full of empathy. "I'm a profiler, its my job. Besides that, I was a student myself once.”  
He nodded and almost imperceptibly began to relax. “It was, well, Misha had a lot more than a couple. . . of joints, I mean. I was trying to keep an eye on everyone so I only had a couple of puffs but he had had a lot and tequila too."

Something about his tone caught her attention. "You say you were trying to keep an eye on everyone, why did you think they needed it?"

Jared's body language was tense but not guilty, he looked dejected, as though he blamed himself for what had happened. She could see him trying to find the right words, he was obviously putting a lot of thought into telling her the most important and relevant information.  
"Just tell me everything Jared," she encouraged. "Don’t worry if it doesn't seem significant to you, tell me everything you can remember about the party."

Jared nodded, his big, hazel eyes peering from beneath long dark lashes were filled with fear and concern. "Well, its like we all knew there was a serial killer out there, obviously. I mean only the first guy was from the med school but the others were all students too. There were posters about safety and staying in groups and stuff all over campus. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on and Misha and Chad, well they fit the type."

Emily felt her breath hitch, "fit the type? Jared are you saying you profiled the victims? Because they don't seem to be much of a type to me." She hoped to draw him in with her revelation, wanted to know more of where the other man was coming from. Her gut told her he wasn't responsible but he still seemed to know more about this case that he should.

"We . . . we all did, in our psych' eval' class. We had finished our finals so there wasn't much left on the schedule so the stand in suggested trying it, you know? Doing a victim profile and using it to come up with a profile of the killer. It seemed like a fun thing to do. Not . . . fuck! fun is the wrong word, interesting maybe. you know applying theory to an actual situation."

"Fucking amateurs!" she could hear Derek growl in her ear but she tuned him out, totally focused on Jared.  
"Please Jared, think for me, try to remember exactly what was discussed."  
"I know, I know!" he anguished, "Misha's running out of time". He drew in a deep breath and she could see the kid was forcing himself together with rigid control.

"Well, we're all in the same class, me and Misha and most of our friends, all the guys who were at the party that night. But we know people from all over the city, we tend to go with Chris and Steve when they play bars on other campus‘s and stuff. Alex knew Ryan Cassinelli who was killed first even though he was a freshman because he was a surfer too; and then Chris had slept with a chick who dated the second victim. Someone else came from the same hometown as the third victim and the last guy worked in one of the bars Chad hung out in occasionally. It was just stupid stuff like that, and we all pooled what we knew and the guys were all pretty similar."  
"Similar? how?" Prentiss prompted, trying to get the exhausted young man to keep talking, anything that might give them a lead to proceed with.

"Well, not physically so much; I don't think they looked alike. We figured it was more about their personalities really." He looked up, his gaze open and honest, he was starting to hold himself taller in his seat now, as though by being able to help was physically infusing him with energy. "let me see, first off they liked to party, I mean I know most students do but these guys? they all skated pretty close to being kicked out because they put more effort into having a good time than into studying."

He looked at Prentiss to see how she was reacting to his words so she nodded encouragingly for him to continue. "They all had problems with authority, didn't like being told what to do and well they were all . . ." he shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to call it, experimental? I mean sexually, I mean . . . ah shit!"

Emily tried to project an air of composure, she knew that getting aggravated or annoyed would make Jared clam up faster than anything. "I need a little more help here Jared, are you saying they were promiscuous?"

Jared shook his head, his mouth twitching in frustration as he tried to make her understand. "No, not that, there were others who slept around more . . ." He thought for a moment. "Well its like Misha, he would always identify as straight but he wasn't, not really." Prentiss still wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to get at and she said so as gently as she could.

Jared shrugged his shoulders with helpless frustration. "Look I'm trying to be honest with you here, its so hard talking to a woman about this stuff, talking to anyone."  
“I can get a male agent to take over if you’d be more comfortable with that, I’m sure you’d get along with Dr Reid," She offered.  
He shook his head and took another deep breath, sitting up straighter again and pulling his legs in under his chair. "Okay, its like this; before I was with Jensen if Misha didn't have a girlfriend then we'd sleep together sometimes, it was no big deal, just getting off and being close, you know?” She nodded, it made a little more sense now why Jared was so very upset, he obviously cared very deeply for his friend.

“And the other vi . . . victims, they were all either openly bi or they were just up for a good time all the time." He sat back and spread his hands on the table, finally looking up to meet her in the eye "and, well I guess most of my bunch fit some of that description but Misha and Chad were total ringers, we even laughed about it at the time, I said that they shouldn't be allowed out alone till this was over."

That actually made some sense, it gave them a connection between the victims that they hadn’t had before at an rate.  
“That's helpful Jared, thank you. Could we just go back to the night of the party now, was there anyone there you didn't know or didn't recognize? Anyone pestering Misha or making unwelcome advances?”

Jared shook his head. "No." He answered definitely. "We were actually pretty strict on the guest list, much more so than usual. There was maybe half a dozen people there I didn't know and they were all women that Chad and Steve invited. Everyone else was from school."

"And you say Misha was pretty stoned?" This tallied with information they had about the other victims, that they were all intoxicated on one substance or another on the nights they disappeared. "Yeah, Jared confirmed. He was really pretty wasted, sleepy drunk, you know? That's why he wouldn't come home with us when we left. I had to lift him onto the couch and I thought he was already asleep and that he'd stay with our friends for the weekend. The others didn't notice him leave and assumed he must have gone with us after all. It's how no one knew he was missing." The shadows of Jared's emotions were written on his face, guilt and loss and regret chasing each other in quick succession.

Emily figured she'd got as much out of him as she was going to in one session but then she had one last thought about what the class had discussed. "When you had that session in school, did you have any theories about who the killer is or why he was doing this?”

Jared shook his head, "Not really, it was just standard TV stuff I think with a bit of Psych 101 thrown in. You know, most serial killers are white males in their thirties; he had to be strong but he had to be personable too, to make these guys go with him. I mean after the first one we all knew to be careful so they weren't going to just wander into an alley for a blow job or anything. They weren't the type to follow orders so he either had to know them or he had to persuade them somehow so we figured he was charismatic, easy to talk to and . . . well, not gross or creepy!”

"Good insight." Hotch spoke this time and Prentiss gave the ghost of a smile to the watchers behind the glass.

Okay, Jared, thank you you've been great. We'll call you if there's anything else we need to know. He stood up and shook her hand, clasping it firmly. His hand was enormous, dwarfing her own and he looked at her earnestly. "Please, catch this guy, get Misha back."

No promises you can't keep she thought desperately but he looked so young and so earnest, it was an almost involuntary reaction to say what he wanted to hear.  
"We'll get your friend back,” she heard herself say, “we're the best if anyone can do it we can."

 

**********************

 

Misha was losing track of how long he'd been here, more than a week he thought. At least five days that he was aware of added to the foggy time when he'd first been brought here, those days when he'd been drugged and out of it and the time when he had been alternately kept in the shower and subject to the cruelest of Sebastian's whims or taken out and raped and cut with very little interaction other than pain.

This room was a little better than the shower stall but still felt worse than a cell making him feel claustrophobic and anxious. Nothing changed but the light from outside, even that was hard to judge though the heavily screened window. The time dragged heavy when he was alone, nothing to look at, only his own mind for company.

Actually the room was quite large with nothing but empty space and the huge iron framed bed, when he had the energy he’d searched every inch of it to no avail. The bland, ivory walls held no pictures or loose nails. The window was jammed firmly shut, the dark shutter outside and a frosted coating fixed to the frame so that there was no way of getting to the glass. He spent a desperate afternoon trying to rip it away, hoping against hope that he would at least be able to break the glass or get a message out somehow at the very least.

Sebastian had caught him though and after a savage kick to the ribs that had left Misha winded and gasping Sebastian had regained his normal iron control. Spreading Misha onto the bed he’d raped him almost perfunctorily and Misha was even more frightened than ever as he endured the assault waiting to find out what his punishment was.  
"You get a real scar this time, Misha. You choose, on your arm or your chest or your back. Six inches, I think that's fair, an inch for every hour I can't trust you to be left alone.

Misha squeezed his eyes shut, trying to tune out Sebastian's words, a vicious hand in his hair and Sebastian hissed in his ear  
“choose or i cut your fucking throat Misha, now!”  
"Arm, cut my arm!" Misha gasped. It would all hurt just as bad but somehow it was worse when Sebastian worked on his back, where Misha couldn't see what he was doing.  
“Better,” Sebastian had nodded before drawing his blade across Misha's bicep, not too deep, obviously not going to risk Misha bleeding out yet but deep enough that Misha couldn’t help but scream at the pain of it.

Sebastian suckled at the blood for a few minutes, gaining some strange sense of peace from the action. Misha could feel it creeping over the other man as he lay on the bed beside him. Misha tried to breathe slowly, fighting against the tide of nausea that was his almost constant companion now. The pain in his side was deepening and starting to throb; Misha was afraid that he had broken a rib or two. He looked at the ceiling, trying to send his mind anywhere but where he was, looking at the patterns in the plaster, whorls and circles that overlapped and spun.

Finally Sebastian stood up, eyes glassy, almost as though he were drunk on Misha's blood. He was as calm and peaceful as Misha had ever seen him, his pink tinged lips held a smile that was for once serene rather then twisted and mocking.

"Now please be a good boy for me Misha," Sebastian warned, "or next time I might be a little more creative in your next punishment."  
"I'm really sorry, Seb. I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry." Misha had sat up when Sebastian had moved but still sat hunched up at the top of the bed, looking abject as he prayed he wouldn't once more be shackled to the black metal ironwork of the frame or returned to the bleak chill of the wet room.

"What you do to me, sweetheart." Seb shook his head but the anger had left his face, appeased by the blood and Misha's obvious contrition.  
"I . . . I just get lonely when you're gone," Misha confessed. It gave him a strange sense of power to see how he'd managed to take the wind out of Sebastian's sails with his confession.

Sebastian looked so truly lost for words that Misha pressed home his advantage, maybe in the future he would be able to use it somehow.  
"Stay a bit longer, please? " It took all the emotional reserves he had but somehow Misha lifted up his arm, offering the still bleeding wound back to Sebastian. "Stay with me."

Sebastian looked at him for a long moment, "Yes, yes that would be nice," he agreed. Sebastian never undressed when he raped Misha, didn't take his clothes off at all usually, just unzipped his trousers. Now though he shrugged out of his shirt and threw it out of the door along with the knife. Then he sat back on the bed and kissed Misha very gently on the lips, Misha couldn't make himself respond but he didn't pull away, allowing the other man access and trying not to gag at the taste of his own blood on Sebastian's lips.

Finally Sebastian curled round Misha, holding him gently in his arms, his mouth once more fastened on the wound. Such a dreadful parody of love and yet Misha was learning to take comfort from any scrap of affection he could get. He found himself almost relaxing into Sebastian's embrace, welcoming the pain and the dizziness that came with the blood loss because it brought with it the relief of a human touch and a break from being alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The power to cause pain is the only power that matters, the power to kill and destroy, because if you can't kill then you are always subject to those who can, and nothing and no one will ever save you.

ORSON SCOTT CARD, Ender's Game

 

The temporary operations HQ that they’d been assigned to looked pretty much the same as it did in all of the many police stations they ended up based in. This particular force were happy to have them though which always helped, too often they were brought in over the heads of the local force and they had to deal with hostile staff . At least here they were given plenty of coffee that was half way decent and had even been offered a share of the daily donut delivery. Spence sat at the wide desk he’d been allocated and took dainty bites from a jelly donut as Morgan sat opposite, his donut was already finished and he was busy licking the sugar from his fingers before chasing it down with a cardboard mug of strong black coffee.

Spread behind the desks were huge information boards containing photographs and key information such as the last sightings of the victims and the positions of the body dumps. Reid‘s brain kept working even while he was technically taking a break, churning over the information he had gathered, making links, trying to come up with new connections. He finished his snack and looked over at Morgan.  
“So, I've been taking another look at the autopsy photographs and reports.” Even though his tone was quiet, almost casual his team members knew that Spencer was always worth listening too. So at Spence’s words Morgan looked up from the crime scene report he was studying. “Yeah?”  
Reid nodded. “He really takes care of these boys, in his own way he thinks he loves them. They're malnourished but that's probably a deliberate tactic to keep them docile. He's trying to Stockholm them at a guess, denying them basics like food and water and then buying his way into their affections by allowing them access to it as measured rewards for compliance."

"That makes sense," Hotch agreed.  
But the one thing he didn't seem to stint on is washing facilities. They're all clean, their hair has been washed, all bearing traces of the same shampoo, the wounds show they have been treated with an antibacterial gel.”  
“So what’s he doing then? Is this some kind of collector deal again? And if so why does he burn through them so quickly?” Morgan interjected.

Reid smiled his approval, he was glad that Morgan was on the same wavelength as he was. “It’s the bloodletting, that’s what sets him apart. I've never seen anything this extreme before. Look at some of the wounds.” He pushed a photograph across the table, “See the bruising here, at the edges of this back wound? And again on this one on his shoulder? It’s almost like what’s colloquially called a love bite. I think he’s encouraging the bleeding, ingesting the blood. That’s why the cuts are so distinct to the rest of the injuries, they're done purely for the purpose of the blood drinking. Of the other wounds some are sexual and in some he's proving his dominance. See the bites here and here on the chest and thighs? he‘s not bothering to remove the skin from there though, so he doesn't care about bite patterning or trace DNA evidence.”

As Reid had been talking, Rossi had moved over to look at the pictures with them and add his own take on things. Police chief Edlund stood quietly by, observing the team and listening to the theories and suggestions they bandied back and forth as they nailed down a profile. Now he spoke.  
“He's a Dominant? Like the S and M type of thing?" Although he was young he was very good at his job but this was so very far out of his training and experience. "Help me out here. Are you saying this is some power kick gone wrong? Should I have been checking the fetish clubs? Is there any chance that these boys were willingly playing sex games that got too far out of hand?”

“No, none at all.” Reid said definitely. “The evidence of rape is too clear, and these aren't the normal limit pushing games you'd expect with a D/S relationship. This is all one sided, he has to be a total alpha, he wants to be in control of this whole situation. That isn't to say he won't get off on his victim being submissive, in fact that could be the key to why some of the victims have lived linger than others.”  
Rossi nodded his agreement, feeling the profile beginning to build. “We're looking for someone who felt he had no control as a child, he was overpowered and dominated during his early years but by the time he was a teenager he got a taste for power, this is all about maintaining that. He’s a puppet master, he's pulling these boys strings. I'd be willing to bet that this is all about the breaking for him, he wants them to fight him but not too much.”

Morgan’s face was grim, “He won't be a trophy taker, he feels that they are all a part of him already, the blood he drinks is his trophy. He wants to own them so bad he literally consumes them. ”

 

********************************

 

He sometimes felt as though the waiting was even worse than the times Sebastian was there with him. Misha was at least able then to try and distance himself from the pain and the horror of Sebastian‘s attacks. Sebastian's cool, cultured tones and elegant drawl so at odds with the terrible things that he whispered in Misha's ear as he fucked into him. Not knowing if it was worse when Sebastian carved his love into Misha's skin or when he murmured endearments and told Misha how much he loved him, how Misha was his for ever, how Sebastian would own Misha until the day he died. When Misha was alone, like now, he could only replay the scenes of earlier in the day and wait with trepidation for what would happen when Sebastian visited him again. When all he could do was pray that this wasn't the time Sebastian took things too far and finally killed him.

Misha tried to think of other things, happier times but the pain and the memories of the most recent attack were too fresh, too raw. He had choked back another sob and tried to let his mind go blank, the pain was consuming him, burning him up from inside. He ignored the sounds the other man was making as he ploughed into Misha's flesh, Misha could feel himself tearing and he bit into his own arm to stop himself from crying out. A hot gush of blood eased the movements of his assailant and the other man moaned his pleasure and Misha tried to bite back his cry of pain.

"Scream for me, pretty boy," Seb commanded.  
"no, no, no," Misha chanted softly, he was so determined to hold out, wanted to just send his mind far away so he could pretend that this wasn't happening to him.  
“I can keep going all night Misha,! Seb had purred, “but you can stop me all you have to do is scream.”  
“Noooo” Misha moaned. He tried so hard to hold on to his last scraps of self, he couldn't bear to give in to his tormentor. The pain was dimming to a blur or he was on the point of passing out, sometimes it was hard to tell which. He had given up trying to fight the other man off. knew that after days of captivity, drugs and abuse he was weaker than he'd been in years. He tried to separate off from what was happening to his body, realistically his best chance of survival was to give in to Sebastian's demands, maybe then he could sleep a little and try and gather some strength.

"Please," he gasped. "Sebastian , please!"  
"Begging, that's good, now scream for me baby.” Mercilessly the older man picked up his speed slamming into Misha's body with ever increasing force, suddenly it seemed very easy for Misha to do as he was commanded. Screaming out with all his strength before collapsing on to the bed as Sebastian pulled out and discarded him.

"See, not so hard was it pretty boy, you'll be doing everything i tell you and thanking me for it by the time I've finished with you."

Misha had curled up as small as he could manage, feeling battered and numb. He let himself give in to the luxury of sobs as Sebastian soothed him, running hands that were gentle now over Misha's back and stroking his face. Suddenly sickened beyond endurance, Misha struggled to get away, hating above anything the feel of the older mans hands on him, they hypocrisy of the man giving comfort for the pain he'd caused. The fresh stripe that Sebastian had carved into his back stung and burned, he could feel it like a line of flame bisecting his body.

"Mine, Misha." There was a warning note in Sebastian’s body but Misha couldn’t bring himself to heed it; he was a ball of pain and hurt already, he didn't think Sebastian could hurt him any worse.  
"Not yours," he'd murmured defiantly, "I'm not yours."

Indeed as Sebastian prepared him for a bath, which always followed the same format, almost as though following a ritual, adding bubbles and washing his hair as he did now most days, Misha thought maybe he had been mistaken, that his captor would forgive him this small misdemeanor. Until with a sudden vicious shove that proved him wrong, Sebastian forced Misha under the water where he thrashed as strongly as he could, trying to scrabble for purchase against the slippery sides of the bath. Every cell in his body screaming for air until black sparks flashed in front of his eyes and he felt a rush of water pouring into his nose, his throat, the burning in his lungs overpowering the pain in the rest of his body.

As the pain started to recede Misha was suddenly almost grateful that his torment was nearly over. He was aware of a prayer repeating itself in his head “Father into thy hands I commend my spirit, Father into thy hands . . . " and he was dragged spluttering into the air. The cold rush of air burning and more painful than the lack of it. He spluttered and gasped as Sebastian grasped his hair. "Mine, Misha. mine to touch or not, to feed or not, to decide whether you live or die. do you understand?” Misha could do nothing but cough and splutter and then he was thrust beneath the water again to feel the pain and panic dominate his body and mind once more.

This time when Sebastian brought him back to the surface Misha choked out a “yes, yours, only yours” almost before he tried to take a breath.

“Exactly, Misha, well done." Sebastian congratulated before carefully lifting him from the water where Misha lay on the floor, gasping and choking as he vomited blood tinged foam onto the floor. Sebastian watched him dispassionately and waited until he was sure Misha had finished before drying him and tending his wounds carefully as always, even to the point of applying some type of numbing gel to his anus. However much it grossed him out to have the other man touch him there he couldn’t deny that he was glad to be relieved of the pain even temporarily. And he had learned his lesson now. He would let Sebastian do what he wanted without flinching or pulling away, it didn't end the torment, merely prolonged it.

As he huddled silently on the bed remembering the torture he still shook with the horror of it; it still burned so hard even to breathe at the moment, every lungful of air made him feel dizzy and he was racked with coughs every few minutes. He had known in his head that sooner or later Sebastian would kill him. he just hadn't been prepared for what it would be like for it to actually happen. He couldn't believe really that he was still alive now, he guessed numbly that he ought to thank God for it but somehow he couldn't. He remembered the feeling of peace that came over him when he had thought he was dying, he really wished that it had happened, that Sebastian had gone through with it and ended this.

No! Misha found himself rebelling against the train of thought he was following, just no! Where there's life there's hope, that what they said right? He would do his damnedest to get through this, he wasn't going to give up now, he had to make it through this. He had to make it out the other side for Yuri's sake and for Jared and for his other friends. He had too much to live for to just lie back and let Sebastian kill him, if that happened then Misha was going to fight it every step of the way and do his damnedest to take the other man with him.

Lord he prayed, help me, he thought of his babushka and the quaint old fashioned icons she had kept arranged on lace doilies on the sideboard in the living room; the tall ivory candles in old brass holders that she lit as she prayed before them.  
Please Lord, give me the strength to get through this. He pictured lighting a candle in the dark, the flame growing strong even as he grew weaker, Lord help me get through this he repeated and send your vengeance on my enemy.

 

*************************

 

Jared huddled small in Jensen's arms as they sat crammed together on one end of the couch. The two men hadn’t left the house much since Misha’s disappearance. He was uncharacteristically still and it broke Jensen's heart to see his lover like this. He knew Jared blamed himself for Misha's abduction, Jensen had tried to get him to see reason and to understand that there was nothing Jared could have done that night to make Misha come home with them but Jared was in no mood to listen.

Often the others would call round to wait with them, Alex and Chris pacing the room with nervous energy, unable to contain themselves for long enough to sit down. Chad too was on edge and jumpy, practically chain smoking as he sat on the porch outside, banished from the house while he had a lit cigarette. He would come in and sit with them for five minutes before jumping up to go outside again. He had lost his usual bluster and silliness and seemed somehow much younger than all the rest of them, vulnerable in a way they'd never seen him be before.

Steve was more stable, he was the rock that they all turned to. He and Jensen tried to keep things steady, calling out for pizza or making Chilli when they felt people ought to eat. Diffusing the situation when Chris or Alex got mad enough at the world to try and punch walls. Trying to include Yuri in their circle, knowing that however bad they were feeling Yuri’s suffering was incomprehensible.

Jared barely slept now, only dozing for a couple of hours at a time, Jensen doing his best at trying to comfort him. This waiting was terrible, each time the phone rang it made them jump, a nauseous rush of adrenalin as Jared waited to hear if this was it, they needed him or Yuri to go and identify Misha's body.

Yuri too made the whole situation seem even more surreal, from the wrong angle it might as well be Misha himself sitting there, he looked so alike, hell he even sounded like him. Enough that if the man called through from the kitchen or woke Jared up from a doze he‘d have a startling moment of relief that it had all been a nightmare. To be followed by the plummeting of his emotions as he realized the truth. Guiltily Jensen wished sometimes that Yuri didn't have to stay with them, when it made Jared's suffering so much greater to have him around.

To an outsider it would look like Misha was still with them, sitting in their living room, sleeping in his bed. Although if it was anything as bad for Yuri as it was for Jared then there wouldn't be much in the way of sleep going on.

Jared had spent the nights since Misha's disappearance pacing his room, or just clutching Jensen to him, afraid to let his lover out of his sight for even a moment.  
Now the pair of them were alone for once, even Yuri had gone to spend the night with their friends as Alex and Christian had made him leave the house to go for a training session with them. Hoping that maybe he would be able to release some of his tension in a physical workout; he might not be able to forget about the dreadful situation at all but he might be able to be distracted for a little while.

As the second week began to edge towards a close the fear had begun to escalate, although no one voiced it the elephant in the room was always there. The longest a victim had been kept alive for was sixteen days. If Misha was still alive now his time was running out.

Jensen had made his boyfriend a mug of warm milk, hoping to help him settle enough to sleep for a few hours. They sat curled together on the large couch, they rarely had sex at the moment, too full of the fear and panic that surrounded them. If they did it was usually instigated by Jared, literally trying to crawl into Jensen's skin in his efforts to keep him close, to keep him safe where he had failed to protect Misha.

For now though the comfort of being able to hold each other was enough and finally the exhaustion was winning and Jensen could see that Jared's eyes were closing. Within a few minutes his breathing was evening out and he finally slept. Jensen watched him and wondered at the changes that just a few days of worry had wrought in his boyfriend. Still handsome obviously, but now his wide, generous smile was replaced with a tiny pinched frown; his eyes were shadowed and dark. Jensen hoped that Jared would stay asleep for a little while longer at least without Yuri to jolt him awake with every word then Jared might actually be able to get some proper rest.

 

***************

 

Misha had been left alone for a long time, he wasn't sure exactly because he had no way of measuring time, judging by the changing light outside it was maybe as much as two days. Sebastian had hauled him into the shower after his last assault and had put some kind of soothing ointment on his wounds, Misha was used to it now, accepting without flinching when Sebastian pressed some up inside him. Misha had been given a small plastic bowl of soup and some water then left to sleep. Seb didn't usually bother to cuff him any more now, trusting that Misha had learned his lesson about the futility of escape attempts and the punishment they brought.

As soon as he was left alone Misha had stood up and limped to the window, it was coated with some sort of frosted surface so he couldn't see out. He thought if he had a mail or something he might be able to scratch it away but his fingers alone made not even a mark on it.

The window itself had been nailed shut from the outside so no matter how he tried he couldn't pry it open. Added to that there were shutters on the outside that filtered in dim light during the day but it was dark out there at the moment. Even the walk in closet was empty, there was nothing to use as a weapon, no way of getting out.

He was filled with an unbearable weariness and wanted to sleep. He stretched out on the bed but felt horribly exposed and eventually he took his pillows into the closet, he knew it was no real protection from Sebastian's next assault but it made him feel safer somehow and eventually he dozed for a while. He was still sufficiently aware of the light growing stronger outside his window that he knew when dawn turned into morning. He wanted somehow to let people know he'd been there, that if he did die in this place there would be some record of it. Wincing he pressed his finger into the freshest wound on his arm, reaching into the dimmest corner of the closet he pressed a fingerprint close to the floor. He hoped that down there Seb wouldn't see it and destroy it, then maybe one day if the sick fuck ever did get caught there would be evidence that Misha was one of his victims.

Stiffly Misha stretched himself out and went back to sit on the bed, he was too keyed up waiting for his captor to come back to really settle down and sleep at the moment. Misha could feel his nerves stretching thinner and thinner until he was almost ready to scream, to hammer on the door and beg Sebastian to come back to him.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it a moment longer and he was going to break Misha heard the soft click of the door being unlocked that was his indicator that Sebastian was coming in. Apart from that tiny noise there was never any sound from the rest of the house, he could only guess that the room was sound proofed. Sebastian always took pleasure from making Misha scream and it never seemed to bother him however much noise Misha made.

Misha felt something akin to relief as Sebastian finally arrived. Sebastian gave him a small, tight lipped smile. "So then, sweetheart I've got to pop out for a couple of hours, can I trust you not to try anything silly?"  
Misha gave a silent nod, eyes still looking firmly down at the bed. He'd exhausted himself looking for any possible means of escape or even of getting an SOS message out somehow.  
"Good, that's very good. I've brought a present for you, make things easier when I get back."

Onto the bed Sebastian dropped a small turquoise bottle of lube and Misha looked up, startled. Sebastian's expression was sly, there was something more to this; why was his captor doing this? He kept trying to second guess Sebastian all the time, always aware that if he made the wrong choice it could be the last decision he ever made.  
"It's up to you, Misha. Use the lube and I'll know it means you're coming to me willingly when I return, I know you'll be begging for my cock. Don't use it and I fuck you anyway but maybe you can hold on to your last shred of dignity for just a little bit longer."

Misha swallowed and nodded, "I understand," he whispered.  
"Good boy," Sebastian leaned in then and pressed a kiss to the top of Misha's head. From outside the door he fetched a small plastic mug of coffee and a plate with two small oatmeal cookies on it. "See how nice I can be if you're nice to me?"  
"Thank you". Misha's voice was quiet but his tone was pained as he rasped out the words.

As soon as the door closed behind Sebastian, Misha grabbed the food from the dresser. He took a bite out of one of the cookies and chewed it carefully, it grated as he swallowed it down; his throat was permanently sore from screaming for much of the time he'd been a captive. He took a cautious sip of the coffee, it was cool and too milky sweet but it tasted like nectar just the same. He couldn't help thinking it tasted like something that Jared would have drunk, insisting that putting enough milk and sugar in it made it constitute breakfast. It felt like he'd been separated from his friends for months, the days he'd been here felt endless, each one blending into the next.

He made his meager meal last as long as possible. Just a few days ago that would have barely constituted a snack but today it was a feast. Once he had savored every morsel he carefully placed the cup and plate back on the dresser. Only then did he turn his attention to the innocent looking little bottle lying on the bed.

It seemed such a harmless thing to do and yet Sebastian had known how it would torture Misha on a whole different level. Using it meant that when Sebastian fucked him again it wouldn't hurt, sure. That was the easy part but using it meant so much more than that, it meant that Misha had accepted his fate, that he was giving up, that he was giving himself willingly to Sebastian.

Could he do that? Misha tried to work out again how many days he'd been captive, nine maybe or ten, perhaps even more. It was so hard to keep a track of the passing days. In that time he'd been raped repeatedly, beaten, kicked, starved, cut and drowned. He was only alive at Sebastian's whim, his only chance at staying alive was to make the choice Sebastian wanted. What a fucking horrible decision to be faced with; to leave himself ready for more pain and a world more hurt or to basically acknowledge to Sebastian that he had won, that Misha had given up entirely.

So which decision was he supposed to make? What was the right answer? Did Sebastian want to make Misha a willing participant in his own rape? Would that psychological torment give the sadist more of a kick than the sexual thrill of causing Misha pain?

He was exhausted, this was making his head spin, he had no idea which course of action to choose. He picked the bottle up and looked at it closely, just basic lube, for sensitive skin. Well at least Sebastian was actually trying to take care of him still, he was aware enough of the damage he had caused to Misha over the past few days. Misha knew he just needed to get on with this, he needed to sleep now while Sebastian was safely out of the house.

Misha took a deep breath, okay. Sebastian had tried to drown him as punishment for pulling away, some of the worst rapes and cuttings had come after Misha had tried to escape or struggle. He would take the path of least resistance, both figuratively and literally.

He pushed down the pump dispenser and let a little of the goo trickle down over his fingers. Misha rubbed his fingers and thumbs together feeling the slip and slide of the substance on his fingers. As long as this was what Sebastian wanted it would make things a whole lot more pleasant . . . he shuddered. Not pleasant, never that but It would at least make things a whole lot more comfortable later.

Misha pumped more lube out onto his fingers and reached back, he hissed a little at the sting, his ass was so bruised and sore. As he pushed his finger tip tentatively up inside he hitched out a small sob, it hurt as he stretched the already torn flesh. He had to force himself to keep going, he could do this, he could. He kept adding more lube and working it in, feeling things actually get a little more comfortable as he did so. He added another finger then a third, stretching himself out, trying not to think of how good it had felt when Jared had done this to him. He deliberately tried to avoid his prostate, it made him feel ill to think that he might get any pleasure from this. When Misha figured he'd done as much as needed he rolled over on to his side, drawing his knees up tight to his chest. He could feel the tears tracking down his face and realized that even without being here Sebastian had managed to violate him yet again. Misha curled himself as small as possible and tried to sleep again, needing the respite that only unconsciousness could bring.

He wished fervently that he hadn't let himself think of Jared, he missed his friend so very badly. It was kind of ironic really. Sebastian probably didn't even know how the worst way he was torturing Misha was by keeping him alone. Misha hated being alone so very much, he and Yuri had shared a bed until they were nearly twelve and even then they'd shared a room and had often crawled into each others bed to whisper beneath the blankets long into the night. He'd roomed with Jared when they were in dorms; this was only his second year of having a room of his own. So often he would crash on the couch or pass out in a corner with Chad rather than sleep alone in his room. He would always choose to study with one of his friends rather than work alone.

Misha had always surrounded himself with people, had thrived on a being in the center of a busy crowded environment. This now, being alone for so long was what was sending him out of his mind.

Desperately he forced himself to remember Yuri; the stories that they would tell each other in the dark as they giggled and whispered until Momma had shouted up at them that she'd smack their legs with a wooden spoon if they didn't be quiet. That threat would work for at least five minutes before they'd start up again, they knew Momma wouldn't really smack them however much she threatened.

Yuri told the best stories, usually Misha would eventually fall asleep with his brother's voice whispering tales of pirates or cowboys or spacemen. In the summer they had a little blue tent and they'd camp out in the back yard; sleeping bags and torches, candy stashes in one of Dedushka's old cigar tins, listening to the music of the cicada's as they fell asleep. Those summers had seemed to last forever. He longed more than anything to be back there again.

Misha finally fell asleep with the imagined stories of brother unfolding in his ear, shut in the closet that was the nearest thing he had to safe in this hell dimension he'd found himself in. Pretending to be back in that old blue tent with Yuri, that the nausea was just the familiar sickness caused by too many Sour Suckers and Tootsie rolls rather than starvation and anemia.

 

**************************************

 

Yuri sat on his brother's bed, his eyes staring blankly ahead, barely taking in Misha's wildly pattered curtains or the huge tie dyed purple bedspread that hung on one wall. He clutched his cell phone in his hand. It never left his side these days, he put it on charge only when he could be in the room with it. All the time hoping against hope that if it rang he would hear his brother's voice saying it was all a terrible mistake.

He played it out in his head, scenario after scenario.

"hey, Yur, you'll never guess! There was this chick, legs up to her armpits! Man, we just hopped on a plane and went to her place in Hawaii, been having wild sex on the beach for days!"

"Yuri, bro! How you doing? I met this guy in a bar, he had a cabin in the forest with a collection of over a hundred Scottish Single Malts. We've tasted our way through every single one of them, hangover lasted two weeks!"

"So dude, it's like this. I was talking to some guy about Doctors without borders, next thing I know I'm on a 'plane to Somalia. I delivered twins by emergency caesarean by candlelight."

He could hear his brother's voice so easily, hell! he heard it every time he opened his mouth. He could see it in the faces of Misha's friends how much it hurt them. Jared especially seemed to physically jolt each time Yuri spoke, apparently never prepared for the similarities between his missing friend and his friends identical twin.

Yuri spent a lot of time hiding in Misha's room, partly because he wanted to spare the others this upset and partly because he didn't want to talk to anyone. What he was feeling was so far beyond words; not only could he not explain it to them he didn't want to. What he felt for his twin was such a strong link, his only comfort at the moment was his surety that Misha was still alive. However he'd felt nothing further since that savage burst of pain when he first heard the news.

Stephanie called him several times a day, keeping him grounded, keeping him sane. He missed her terribly but one of them had to be working. He was just grateful that the studio where the soap opera he had a small part in filmed was being so understanding. He would have to go back eventually but for now they'd sent his character off on a round the world cruise with his on screen boss whose actress just happened to be in rehab at the moment.

There was a gentle tapping at the door disturbing his reverie.  
Yuri, you awake, man?"  
Uh yeah, Jensen?"  
Jensen softly pushed open he door, "Just came to see how you were doing really, Chad and the guys have just turned up. I made a lasagne and Steve brought salad and garlic bread. I thought maybe you should come and eat something."

Jensen looked as bad as Yuri felt, he knew that the other man was shouldering much of the responsibility for looking after Jared and himself. Yuri smiled his gratitude, he knew he wasn't in much of a condition to be doing anything for himself.  
"Thanks, dude. Yeah, I guess I should eat something. I phoned the FBI again, they still don't have any news. I was just feeling so helpless, I wish there was more I could do."  
"I know," Jensen's agreement was heartfelt. "I wish there was more I could do too."  
"Hey, you do plenty," Yuri said with a smile that was genuine if not very big, "Alex and Chris haven't beaten anyone up and Jared and I are fed and vaguely sane, that's all down to you!"

"Yeah, yeah you're right. Now come and eat some of this lasagne before Christian eats it all!"

Yuri knew all his brother's friends of course, they'd hung out together several times before. This felt so very different, the conversation stilted and the tension palpable. Still they were able to have a beer together and share the meal that Jensen and Steve had prepared and the very camaraderie of being together helped ease some of the pain they were all feeling. Yuri was glad that at least he wasn't having to deal with this by himself. He knew that Misha where ever he was would be feeling terribly lonely. Both of them had been so used to doing everything as two halves of one whole. It must be unbearable for Mish having to go through this alone.

 

***********************************

 

Misha was woken by Seb's cheerful greeting. "Morning Sweetheart!" and the older man hauled Misha out of his hidey hole and deposited him on the bed. "Got to go to work now Misha. You were such a good boy last night, you know how happy it made to come home and find you ready for me. I thought we could try something similar today."

Misha heard the rattle of chains and felt a pang of fear as leather cuffs were placed around his wrists, he kept his eyes screwed shut as his arms were once more raised above his head and cuffed to the bed frame. Sebastian was gentle, agonizingly so, checking that the padded cuffs were soft around his wrists. "Don't want to damage you with these, this is a present for you not a punishment."  
"Thank you, Seb." Misha murmured, he still kept his eyes closed, what Sebastian had planned for him was anybody's guess and sometimes it made it easier not to see what was coming.  
"Now my lovely, I've got a little something for you to remember me by, keep you entertained while I'm gone."

Two fingers were pressed into his mouth and Misha tried to summon enough spit to wet them while Sebastian encouraged him with a drawled "good boy". And then they were at his hole and he couldn't hold back the sob as the spit slick finger penetrated the already abused flesh. He could only be thankful that he had lubed himself so thoroughly the day before.

He tried to hold still as he felt Sebastian's fingers searching and crooking inside him until he couldn't help but gasp as his traitorous body responded. He moaned and squirmed, his cock filling with blood as Sebastian brushed over his prostate again and again, his other hand working Misha's cock almost lazily as he brushed his thumb over the head. There was a moment of emptiness as the older man pulled away and Sebastian had his hands on him again, telling Misha how good he was and cinching something tight around the base of his cock.

"Please, no," Misha moaned and was rewarded with a sharp slap across his thigh.  
"You know I don't want to hear that word from you, not ever!" and Sebastian worked his hand viciously now into Misha making him tremble with the pain that still held the thin thread of pleasure running through it.  
"Sorry, I'm so sorry, Sebastian" Misha pleaded desperately. "Please, yes, anything you want, Seb, anything."

The fingers were pulled out suddenly and Misha couldn't help but gasp as they were replaced by something cold and hard and it felt too much, too full but he couldn't move away, pinned down by the weight of Sebastian's hand. And then the man was working the toy deeper into him, hitting the button that made it pulse and twitch deep inside Misha's body. Misha couldn't help himself but respond to the insistent pressure inside him, bucking forward as Sebastian continued to stroke his cock.

"So pretty, Misha. I'm going to enjoy thinking about you like this all day." As the toy hit Misha's sweet spot over and over again he couldn't help but gasp and thrust his hips up into Sebastian's hand. Sebastian gave a pleased little chuckle.  
"You'll be so needy when i get home you'll be begging me to fuck you, you'll be pleading for everything by the time I've finished with you."

Misha heard the door click softly as Sebastian left the room and he tried not to beg his tormentor to stay but he had to bite his tongue not to do it. Even when the words finally tumbled out of his unwilling mouth Sebastian just laughed and went anyway.

 

*************************************

 

Garcia finally stopped typing as a large, warm hand touched her shoulder. She leaned back into her boyfriend's familiar warmth, moaning her appreciation as he began to massage the tension out of her shoulders. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, they were so tired, she was so tired, she had lost track of how many hours she'd worked without a break. This case was getting to her worse than usual, it was dragging on too long and she was glad of Kevin's comforting presence.

"I brought Coffee and sandwiches, he said gently. "You missed our date." He took the cuddly rabbit that she held on her lap and put it safely on the desk before he took her hand.  
"Oh oh God! oh I'm so sorry, i didn't notice the time. It's just . . ." she waved her free hand indicating the data rolling up over her screens, she had four computers on the go as she tried desperately to find the link between the victims. "I can't find the link and I know there's got to be one and I'm sure I'm missing something really obvious but I don't know what. I've tried everything from Credit card purchases and club memberships and I've been looking at other unsolved student murders and there are so many it's hard to narrow it down even with the parameters we've got."

"I guessed," he smiled gently and spun her chair away from the desk to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Just stop for ten minutes and eat and I'll help you set up a data sifter that we can leave running overnight."  
She nodded her agreement as she took a mouthful of coffee before ignoring the sandwich in favor of a generously sized cream filled pastry. "I'm lucky to have you," she smiled, thank you.  
“I know I know, i may not be tall dark and handsome but i give great Danish!”  
“You're a good man Kevin, I don't compare you to Morgan and you know it. Don't tease.”  
"You're right, I'm a burning hunk of manly love! Any woman in her right mind would chose me!"  
She giggled, “you are, you are and I do!"  
He pulled another chair up beside her and as she showed him the system he could work on he waved her away, pressing a large takeout coffee mug into her hand.  
"Let me handle this for a bit, then; you're not allowed to help me until you've eaten every bit of your supper. We'll have this baby up and running in no time and we'll be home by one!”  
She looked at him, her eyes soft with affection as she saw that the bag was filled with all her favorite treats. This was why she loved him, well this and his amazing brain power and programming skills obviously.  
"I love you, Kevin" She smiled sweetly.  
“Love you too, babe” he said but he didn't look up, already in that spooky place in his brain where he thought in coding, the program unfolding beneath his fingers.

 

*********************************

The lecturer surveyed the class in front of him, it was a basic intro to psych class that he could have taught blindfold and he was only really doing it as a favor to the head of department who was a friend of a his. He had time to kill at the moment anyway and he had enjoyed his last visit to the campus immensely so he was more than happy to return.

He made a little joke and was gratified to see the ripple of smiles that spread round the room as he brought up the next slide on the screen. The sea of innocent young faces were all hanging on his every word, God! it was totally intoxicating! They were all so shocked, so quiet; not the usual mix of bored and hyperactive that was the norm for this stage in the semester. Only a few days still to go and most of them had given up any pretense of still working. Of course a few seats were conspicuously empty and it was amusing to see how many furtive glances were directed at one seat in particular.

And the thought of the tight little ass that had been previously sitting there was so delicious that Sebastian had to go and hide in the book closet, palming his dick through the fabric of his pants as he pretended to look for more board markers. God! but it was hotter than hell to think of Misha waiting for him at home. His young lover would be so ready for him when he got back, over stimulated and pleading for release. It would be such a pretty scene to get back to as Misha begged for everything that Sebastian had to offer him. And it was the best feeling in the world to hear Misha beg.

He drew a deep breath and returned to the classroom. "Where were we, ah Chad. Would you like to tell me what you think?"  
And the dear boy looked worse than all of the rest of the class put together but he stammered bravely through a fair summary of the text they had been studying. He really did have such a pretty mouth, the young student had been a distinct possibility for a playmate himself.  
“Thank you, Chad, yes. Now I'm not going to set you any more homework you'll be glad to hear but try to get a head on your course reading for next semester.”

Yes, they really all were very subdued, he watched them pack up their things, responded to their muttered goodbyes. It was quite gratifying really, he had never been on the scene afterward like this to see the side effects of his labors. Misha was obviously well liked, judging by the reactions of his friends and classmates. He knew that he had made the right choice in the boy, had never had a playmate quite like him before. So eager to please now but with that tiny thread of spirit still running through him.

Sebastian checked his watch, time for lunch with his friend before he headed back to enjoy playing with Misha once more.

**********************************

 

Misha couldn't think, couldn't concentrate couldn't do anything but feel. The pleasure pain balance was constantly shifting, making his legs jerk and twitch, his whole body trembling. The sweat pouring off him and his throat was cracked and dry after hours of begging and pleading, calling out for Sebastian who never came.

Misha's hair hung damp with sweat over his eyes, a fine sheen of sweat covered his entire body as he writhed and jerked on the bed. His cock was so hard it was agonizing as it oozed pearls of pre-come from the tip. His belly ached to come so hard the pain was unbearable and his balls felt swollen and huge. He could barely do anything but whimper now as he was dimly aware of the sound of the door finally opening.

"Oh my sweetheart, look at you," Sebastian's voice was full of appreciation as he looked at Misha helplessly writhing on the bed. "So fucking beautiful, been wanting to see you all day." He ran his hand lightly down Misha's spine finishing with a little flick to the base of the toy that made Misha jerk his head back with a soundless scream.  
Sebastian undid the cuffs and let Misha's hands fall to his sides. Sebastian took Misha's head in both hands; he gazed intently into Misha's eyes, Misha was incapable of showing anything but his true self in the state that he was in. All Sebastian could see was desperation and longing, the blue eyes clouded with lust, pupils blown wide and eyes glazed.

"Baby, do you want me to make it all better for you?" he asked softly.  
Misha whined his need, not able to form coherent sentences.  
"Talk to me, little one. Tell me what you need." Sebastian commanded.  
"Please, oh please!" Misha's voice was shredded, nothing left of his speech now but a whispered gasp. "Need you, Seb, please, fuck me please."

Sebastian was so tender, so painstaking as he swept Misha's sweat damp hair back from his forehead, leaving his cool palm resting against Misha's fevered skin for a moment.

Seb's hand was so cool on his forehead, Misha bit back another sob as Seb removed it again, finally reaching down to remove the toy from Misha's body with a deft twist that made Misha gasp and jerk, tears rolling down his cheeks.  
"Please, Seb. Want you, need you so badly." he begged again, he needed release, felt like he would die if he couldn't come now, this minute, couldn't go on a moment longer and he was so open so wanting he barely felt as Sebastian opened his trousers and positioned himself at Misha's entrance, pushing forward to sheath himself fully in one swift thrust.

Misha sobbed again, too over stimulated to take anymore, he could feel it now in every fiber of his body, his eyeballs sparkled, even his teeth ached with it. "please, Seb let me come, please." And then blessedly, Seb's hand was on Misha's cock, deftly flicking open the catch on the cock ring and it only took a single squeeze of pressure to have Misha coming so hard and fast that he felt everything go white in front of his eyes, the blood rushing in his eardrums as he finally passed out.

When he woke he had been cleaned up and Sebastian was watching him fondly. He felt totally boneless still unable to move but he forced himself to look a his tormentor, the triumph on the other man's face was obvious, Misha felt like he'd fallen down now as far as he could go, he'd reached the bottom of the pit. Sebastian had prodded him along step by step, taken him from being fucked unwillingly to prepping himself for Sebastian's pleasure to finally giving in and begging Sebastian to give him pleasure.

It left him feeling devastated and hollow inside in a way that nothing else had.


	4. Chapter 4

Pain ... has a structure. It has a floor plan. It has designs more intricate than a chambered nautilus, features more baroque than the most buttressed Gothic cathedral.... it is a poem.

DAN SIMMONS, The Fall of Hyperion

"Hey baby girl, what have you got for me?" Morgan flipped open his cell and smiled his greeting at Garcia before noting as soon as he saw her how agitated she seemed.  
"You okay, sweet cheeks?"  
"He's done this before, Morgan, I tracked him through the cutting patterns. He was in control before, only taking one or two at a time, that's how he stayed under the radar. Only taking twice a year and moving all over the country, usually in May and June, twice in December."  
How many? Hotch was at Morgan's side in an instant.  
I have sixteen definite's, there may be as many as twenty eight more who fit the disappearance pattern of students in late may early June but with no body found. I'm Sending you the data now,”  
Even as she spoke Reid was accessing the information on his laptop scrolling through the pages almost faster than the others could see, his finger tracking the path down the screen as he read.

"i don't think death was the aim in any of these cases either, Reid reported, "I don't think he is setting out to kill these boys. It's more a question of how far he can push them - its more - look at the bodies, they've been taken to the very limits of their endurance, barely fed, hydrated only enough to keep them alive and God!” Reid went even paler and swallowed nervously, “what he's done to them sexually. He's been experimenting, honing his craft. Some of the early ones bled out too quickly where he cut too deep. The last five or six years the damage patterns have been similar. He's decided what he likes and stuck to it".  
Garcia gasped her horror. "He's been at it over ten years," and Morgan soothed her gently, "okay baby girl you're doing good, try again to see what these vics might have in common, now we have so many others for comparison it should make cross checking them easier, right?"  
"I'm checking student employers now, especially those who might employ cash in hand, then gonna go through the off campus accommodation lists and the bars that offer student discount nights. I've got facial recognition software matching up against the security videos as we speak."  
Keep going baby girl, you're doing a brilliant job.  
I know i know. Penelope out"

Right, I think were ready to to update the profile, Hotch cut in over Morgan's thoughts, as he pictured Garcia behind her wall of computer screens and sparkly toys all meant to keep the demons at bay.

They gathered their paperwork together as Hotch organized all the police station staff together in the main precinct. The sea of concerned faces all waiting for them to start, It was unnatural for these guys to be this quiet, Morgan knew from his time on the force that police Stations were usually a hive of noise and activity. The horrendous crime scene photographs on the board in front of them together with the news that had just leaked of the horrendous previous body count, was enough to subdue anyone, even these street hardened cops.

The team tried to keep these briefings fairly informal, knowing the information they were presenting sunk in better if given in small chunks. They spread themselves through the room, and looked to each other for support and guidance as they put forward the facts they had surmised about their killer. The information that would enable them to find him and, God willing, prevent him from doing it again.

"Okay", Reid started, his youthful face peering earnestly at the assembled law enforcement officers. "Our Unsub is a classic . . . he is cold, calculated. Somehow he is known to his victims. Typically a rapist of this type works within a comfort zone so our guy is highly intelligent and organized, deliberately varying his habits and patterns so as to avoid detection and capture. However, he has had some type of stressor recently, this could be the death of someone close or a house move or job loss. This is causing him to speed up and get sloppy, he has never taken this many victims in one city before."

Morgan took over. "We're looking for a white male, he's been doing this for some time so he's at least mid to late thirties maybe even early forties. Professional and good looking, probably has an easy going manner, he's going to be someone you won't suspect. He is educated and even pleasant to talk to. He's also highly dangerous, he believes he's unstoppable. He has been literally getting away with murder for at least ten years."

"This man is all about power and dominance," Prentiss continued, "it's about the total control and mastery of these young men, he won't respond well to being threatened or having his power usurped. We think the victims were chosen because of their problems with authority so we're looking for someone who had similar issues himself. We need you to look closely at the families of students who come from the local area, we need you to interview all the staff from the schools where the boys went."

Hotch finished up "These boys were not chosen at random. Find the link between them and we find the biggest clue as to who our Unsub is."

Rossi clicked the remote for the video screens filling them with a large picture of Misha. "As far as we know Misha Collins is still alive but the clock is ticking. With your help we can save him."

 

*******************

 

Day 17 and none of the other victims had survived this long. Jared felt permanently on the verge of throwing up. All of his friends had gravitated to their house, as thought hey could no longer stay away. He usually loved there company but mow he just wished they'd all leave. Even Jensen's quiet care taking was beginning to grate on his nerves.

He left them all congregated in the front room and took himself into the yard to grab some fresh air. Even the weather was oppressive, hot and humid making him feel like he was breathing honey, the oxygen feeling like it was cloying in his lungs. He paced aimlessly, his long legs easily covering the small area rapidly, making him feel hemmed in and claustrophobic once more. He couldn't begin to imagine what it must feel like for Misha, what his friend must be going through.

Chad was on the Porch smoking once more but Jared couldn't bring himself to go over, there was nothing more for any of them to say to each other any more. There was only one question in any of their minds and no one had the answer.

 

********************

 

Dave Rossi was looking thoughtfully at his laptop, going over once again the latest data that Garcia had sent. He was sure that there had to be something in all the mountains of data they'd gathered that would help them. "I don't know," He mused aloud. "what else could link their schools? We've eliminated all the teaching staff as well as housekeeping , admin and grounds workers."  
Reid cut in, "How about temporary or agency staff, visiting professors, teaching assistants, museum exhibits . . ."  
"Oh my God!" Prentiss gasped, "Jared! You know, the room mate I interviewed? He said they had a stand in who got them to profile the killings!"

And suddenly it was blindingly clear, he remembered the session he'd watched through the two way glass, the earnest young best friend and his description of the class that had profiled the next victim. "Sick fuck! he was playing head games, using them to chose his next victim for him!" Rossi's voice quivered with barely suppressed emotion.

Morgan said evenly, "That was the stressor, he couldn't resist playing to the audience."  
Prentiss flipped open her cell phone, "Jared, hey, sorry no news yet. Jared who was it who got you to do the profile in school?"  
it was Seb, um Sebastian Roche' I think he was called, he'd done a couple of guest lectures and he stood in for Professor Robinson when she was away. "  
"'k thanks" she was about to flip the phone shut when she heard the trill of fear in Jared's voice, "Um Miss Prentiss? Seb, he er . . . he knew Misha pretty well, I think. he was at the party with us because Misha invited him."

Even as Prentiss was on her cell Morgan was relaying the information and Garcia's fingers were flying across the keyboards, she never once glanced down at her hands, just kept watching the information unfold on her screens. On a bad case like this she could get through a keyboard every couple of days as keys jammed and popped off under her demanding touch.

"Okay yes, Sebastian Roche, 37, born in England, grew up in France, multiple psychology qualifications, has written various papers on social identity, published a book on the psychology of blood rituals . . . yeah, he was guest lecturing at all the colleges where kids disappeared from. Now tell me i am the greatest, I have an address right there in Portland."

Rossi watched his team as they sprang into action like a well oiled machine, Morgan gathering together the SWAT team, Prentiss getting into her Kevlar vest and checking her weapon. Nineteen days missing but if anyone could save Misha they could.

 

**************************

 

There was a desperation to the way Sebastian was slamming into him again, a hand twisted into Misha's hair, "say it!" he ground out, "tell me how much you want me."

It put Misha on edge, desperately afraid that the wouldn’t be able to anticipate what Sebastian wanted from him. Not knowing what was causing the other man to behave like this, as violent and savage as he'd been in a very long time but with an odd needy undercurrent that was obvious in the way he spoke. Misha did his best to calm the other man, using the language that he knew from bitter experience was most likely to make his captor treat him more gently. Seb was being so rough and punishing with his movements Misha felt something tear inside him. He couldn't help from cry out before schooling himself to say what he thought Sebastian needed to hear.

"I want you so much, please Seb, you know how I love it, love to have you fucking me, filling me." He tried to put as much feeling into his words as possible, hoping, praying that he could keep Sebastian calm enough to not want to try and kill him today.  
"That's my good boy," and Sebastian was already growing calmer, his movements more about the pleasure he was getting than the pain he was giving. Misha was rewarded for his compliance by a lessening of the grip in his hair, a gentling of the man's thrusts. Sebastian's hand reaching down to caress his face and it was easier somehow now, to lean in to the touch, to feel the connection that brought with it a relief from the pain even if only for a moment.

The kiss of the knife against his flesh was so tender and loving as Seb wielded it, Misha could feel his skin parting, the burn in his shoulder as Sebastian carved another deliberate slice into the already damaged flesh. Seb always liked to cut while he fucked Misha, would keep his cuts shallow and even as long as Misha said what Sebastian needed to hear.  
"Thank you, Seb, thank you. I love you, love what you do to me."  
Sebastian lowered his mouth to the wound, suckling and moaning into Misha's neck as though that act brought him more pleasure than the actual sex.

 

There was a sudden loud crash as the door burst open and Sebastian barely halted what he was doing, merely moved his knife to place it at Misha's throat as he continued to fuck into the pliant body beneath him. His voice was a lazy drawl as he spoke. "You'd better back off, boys. I'm not quite finished here yet."

Misha froze with fear, he couldn't see what was happening behind him, couldn't begin to guess who was in the room. As he swallowed convulsively he felt the blade tighten against his throat.

"FBI, put down you weapon!"

The commanded was spoken in a deep authoritative voice but Sebastian didn't even flinch. "My little playmate here and I were just having a last moment together, I'm sure you understand."  
Misha wanted to vomit, he knew with a deep certainty that Sebastian would carry out his threat, would kill Misha rather than let him be rescued.

A different voice, no less commanding but female this time. "Now, Sebastian, playtime's over. Let Misha go."  
Hmm let me think that over . . . how about . . . no!"  
Out of the corner of his eye Misha could see a dark haired figure was stealthily moving round, she put a finger to his lips and then mouthed, it's okay," at Misha.

"Just stay where I can see you!" Sebastian barked suddenly and Misha was aware that the older man was trembling, the knife biting deeper into his throat.  
"Please Seb, please don't," Misha begged.  
"Oh sweetheart, I'm going to miss hearing you beg, don't you think he does it so prettily?"

Misha gasped as the blade sliced deeper and he felt the blood rushing to the surface in a blossom of pain. There was a burst of noise and Sebastian's hand exploded in a burst of wet blood all over the bed in front of Misha, splattering wetly up onto his face, the blade falling to the ground with a clatter. And then there was so much noise and confusion and the woman near him was pulling Misha towards her even as Sebastian ripped himself from Misha's body with a scream, clawing after Misha before another burst of shots spat out and he was falling off the bed to the floor, crumpled out of sight where Misha couldn't see him.

The woman clutched Misha to her and Misha realized that he was keening and shaking as though he would fly apart at any second.  
The silence that followed was almost as deafening as the gunfire had been then as his ears stopped ringing quite so much he saw that she was speaking to him, repeating over and over again. "He's dead, Misha, he's dead. You're safe now."

 

*********************************

 

Morgan, checked the body for a pulse but it was just a formality, he knew his shot had gone where it was supposed to. Prentiss had taken the mans hand but he had taken the bastards life. He holstered his weapon and looked across the room to where Prentiss was cradling Misha in her arms, Hotch and Rossi were close behind him in the doorway and Hotch was calling for the paramedics to hurry. Morgan could hardly bear to look at Misha, to see the happy, smiling young man that they had been hunting for so damaged and scared. Hardly an inch of his skin was unmarked; bruised, bitten, or cut but he was alive.

Please, Misha begged. "I need to see," he gasped the words out from a throat damaged by days of screaming, his neck still bearing the fingerprints of the man who had assaulted him. Too shocked to stand and make his own way across the room to see the fallen body of his captor.  
"No, no you don't," Prentiss said gently, wrapping him into the sheet that she pulled from the bed, using a corner of it to try and wipe some of his captor's blood from his face. "just lie still, the paramedics will be here soon."

Rossi was on the phone now, calling Misha's brother, telling him the miracle, "alive, Misha's alive and safe now." Morgan could hear the man on the other end of the phone repeating the word over and over again.

Please Misha begged again. There were no depths now to which he wouldn't sink, he would plead, or beg or threaten but Morgan understood, he more than any of them understood the need to see that his abuser was really dead.  
"It's okay, Emily. I'll take him."  
"But . . ."  
"Emily, it'll be one less nightmare for him to worry about later, believe me." He put all the passion he could into his voice and he had never ever referenced his past since they'd been to Chicago for him but something about this boy made Morgan want to fight this last battle for him.

She nodded, relieving Derek of the need to push her any further and relinquished the injured young man to Morgan's care. She moved to the door to stand with Rossi and Hotch who were rapidly detailing CSI's to check the place for anything that might lead them to other victims. If they could find the bodies of the victims who so far remained hidden then at least they could bring a measure of closure to the families.

"I'm Derek Morgan, Misha. You're sure you want this?"  
Misha nodded, his eyes looking huge in his pale, shocked face and were a startlingly deep blue, the dark shadows only serving to enhance their color.  
Morgan was almost afraid to move the young man, he could see that every move would cause Misha even more distress. He tried so hard to be gentle as he lifted him but even so Misha gasped in pain as he was moved. Morgan was aware of the blood seeping through the sheet from the wounds on the mans back, from his legs and thighs and worse but he understood the mans need to see for himself that his nightmare was actually over. Morgan knew that in his head Misha had dreamed of rescue, had hoped for this moment for so many days now that he could scarcely believe it was real.

"Look Misha," he directed gently, "he's really gone, I killed him. Misha you're safe now." As Morgan knelt by the dead man's side he lowered Misha carefully to the floor. Misha reached out, touching the dead mans face, his fingers skirting the edge of the bullet hole, trailing down to the ruined stump of his hand. "Good," he breathed his approval, "I'm glad." Morgan didn't know how the other man could even talk his throat sounded so wrecked.

"I can trust you, can't I? Misha breathed. my rescuer, my avenging angel."  
"Yeah, sure but it's just my job," Morgan muttered, embarrassed by the words.  
"No, Misha insisted stubbornly in the quiet shredded whisper. "I prayed and God sent you."  
Morgan nodded, he often saw things that shook his faith in God but sometimes he still had hope.  
"You heard didn't you?" Misha whispered. "You know what I said to him, what I let him do to me."

"You did what you had to do to survive, Misha." Morgan was so solid and steady, holding the fragile man in his arms still as they waited for the paramedics to arrive. The man was getting weaker and the bloodstain on the sheet beneath him was spreading. Somehow he didn't want to let him go now ,though. There was something about Misha that brought all Morgan's protective instincts to the fore. "Don't forget it okay? I know there are going to be some hard times ahead of you but you are so strong and you will make it through this."

"Yuri? Jared?" Misha whispered, "They'll be waiting for you at the hospital," Rossi reassured, "I've just been speaking to them now."

Misha tried to cling to Morgan as the paramedics arrived but Morgan gently encouraged him to lie down on the stretcher. "I'm coming to the hospital," he promised, "I'll ride with you but you need to go and get sorted out."

 

***************

 

Yuri and Jared were hovering in the entrance to the Emergency room as the ambulance backed up, they were so relieved that they were practically buzzing. Yuri was almost hyperventilating with the need to see his brother, to touch him and hold him and make sure he was truly back with him. He was vaguely aware of Jensen pulling Jared back out of the way as the stretcher was unloaded and Yuri was grateful because he needed a moment alone with his twin.

They rushed the stretcher through the busy ER to a private cubicle: Yuri racing beside them and the noise Misha was making as they went was heart wrenching; a pitiful, thin keening and God! It broke Yuri's heart to hear it. As soon as Misha was transferred to the bed Yuri grasped his brother's hand, he tried to stay out of the Doctor's way but there was no way on earth he could let go now. He could here the paramedic doing handover, words dropped into the air around him that he couldn't fully comprehend. "Shock . . . blood loss . . . knife wounds . . ." but all he could focus on was his brother's blood spattered face.

The staff were bustling round, putting a canula into Misha's arm and setting up a drip, calling for blood to be matched, examining the worst of his wounds.  
"Please sedate him, please," Yuri begged, and it just wasn't fair, how could they not see how much his twin was still suffering. Misha was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering now. Yuri could hardly bear to look at his brother yet couldn't make his eyes look away. Never as buff as Yuri, Misha was now scarecrow thin and God! the marks where the blanket was slipping from his shoulder, razor thin scars etched into the once flawless skin. Blood trickling from a cut on his too pale throat. Dark, fingerprint shaped bruises marking the pale column of flesh. Misha's eyes too were devastating, dark circled, hollow and his expression was filled with nothing but pain and terror, it was as though he couldn't get free of the nightmare he'd been trapped in for so long.

Yuri could hear the Doctor murmuring something about the need for doing a rape kit while they were checking for internal damage and then Misha started to scream but there was none of his voice left to scream with, merely a thready wail that finally broke through Yuri's shock and forced him to act.

"Stop!" He demanded authoritatively, "He can't go through anything else, is that clear? You sedate him now, Okay? I'm his next of kin and I'm saying he can't go through that while he's conscious. It's too much!" He looked round wildly for someone to back him up and spotted the handsome dark FBI officer who'd traveled in the Ambulance. "Sir? Please, sir," he called, "Tell them!"

The man walked over, "God! You look just like him, that's eerie." Yuri nodded, unable to move away from the bed, Misha clasping onto his hand like a drowning man to a life raft. “They need to do . . . stuff to him, please. He needs . . . you know what he's been through. Make them understand he can't be awake for this, it's not fair." And even though Yuri was afraid he was sounding hysterical the agent nodded briefly, his eyes clouding and Yuri realized that he still didn't know the half of what had gone on while his brother was in captivity. "I'm Agent Morgan, Derek. I found your brother. You're right. I'll talk to them."

The man oozed authority as he approached the medical team, explaining something rapidly, all Yuri could do was hold his brother's hand and talk reassuringly to him. Misha didn't seem to hear though, he just trembled, chilled even beneath the swaddling blankets. Finally, blessedly a nurse stepped up and at the Doctor's instruction filled a syringe and slid the needle into the port in Misha's arm.

Almost at once his eyes closed and blessedly the crying stopped. Yuri was guiltily relieved that he no longer had to hear the torment there. As Misha's grasp on him relaxed Yuri gently released his brother and gave a deep, shaky sigh. He sat down suddenly on a dirty green looking plastic chair, he could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He hadn't prepared himself for this, he had been so relieved to know he brother was alive he hadn't expected him to be so broken.

"Come on, Yuri." Morgan spoke to him gently. "They'll look after your brother now, he's going to need quite a bit of stitching up and they need to get blood and fluids into him too. Let's go grab a coffee and I'll tell you all I know."

Yuri rubbed his hands across his face and swayed a little as he stood up. He was suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. "Yeah, a coffee would be good," he agreed. knowing that he wouldn't be able to leave Misha alone in the hospital, that he would need to stay with him tonight. Hell! he would need to stay with his brother for a very long time to come, for his own peace of mind if not for Misha's.

 

**************************

 

Jensen bought another round of coffee's, carefully piling packets of sugar and creamer onto the tray before he carried them to the orange Formica table where Yuri and Jared were sitting with the FBI officer, Derek Morgan. He passed out the drinks and the four men added condiments to their satisfaction. It wasn't the best coffee in the world but it was hot, wet and caffeinated which was all they cared about.

Once they were all settled Morgan filled them in on how Garcia had tracked Sebastian Roche's murderous trail through the University's and college's where he had guest lectured. He had begun, as far as they could tell with the death of his mother ten years ago when he himself was twenty four. Originally he had held himself in check, limiting his kills and staying off his home turf but for some reason he had begun to escalate and the profiling session at the Medical school had spurred him on to take another victim.

They figured that he'd realized that time was running out for him, that he may even have seen them arriving at his house and had chosen one last session with Misha over trying to escape. His plan then had apparently been to kill Misha then himself before they got there. As it was he'd chosen the route of suicide by cop but at least they'd been able to save Misha.

How do you . . . I mean, how can you talk about this stuff and still be so calm?" Jared asked, still shocked by the brief glimpse they'd had of their friend, and Jensen squeezed his arm gently.  
"I'm not going to say you get used to it because you don't." Morgan said, honestly. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "I guess its more that I know that there's one less sick fuck out there so I can sleep a little better tonight."  
Yuri nodded and Jensen was amazed that that the man could still function. As the adrenaline spike at hearing that his twin was alive had worn off he had begun to visibly flag; even the normally hyper Jared was starting to fade fast, hence the second round of caffeine.

Morgan's cell phone buzzed and as he listened the other men drank their coffee in silence. Really it was all so much to process, Jensen was watching the other two carefully, he'd seen at first hand how much they'd gone through over the past weeks. Yuri was obviously gearing up for the long haul, having his brother back was giving him the fuel to keep going but Jared was reacting the opposite way. Jensen was getting increasingly worried about his boyfriend, afraid that he was on the point of collapse. Jared was rubbing his forehead the way he did when he had a headache coming on and Jensen was suddenly afraid that the coffee had been a bad idea. He didn't want Jared to get sick, not now.

"Should we be going home now, Jay?" Jensen asked softly.  
"Nah, I need to see him before we go, if we're allowed to. I just . . . just need to see for myself that he's here."  
Jensen nodded his understanding, he understood the depth of the friendship Misha and Jared shared.  
Morgan snapped his phone shut. "That was Emily, my team's getting ready to fly out. I'm really glad things worked out like this. Misha's being prepped for surgery and he's going to be out a while. You can see him now for five minutes before he goes to theater."

"Thank you," Jared and Yuri spoke simultaneously as Morgan stood up.  
"Not a problem." He hesitated for a moment, then pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to Yuri. "Could you give this to your brother when you think it's appropriate. He may have some questions for me at some point."

Yuri nodded, “of course, Derek, thank you so much.” He pulled Morgan in for a one armed hug and leaned up to whisper a heartfelt, "Thank you for killing the bastard for me."  
"Again, not a problem." Morgan smiled, "Go on now, go take your five minutes, I reckon they'll have to keep him sedated for a few days now so you want to make the most of it while you can."

 

**************************

 

Misha lay very still as he slowly began to wake up, he never knew what he was going to wake up to and he had learned to use these moments of quiet to suss out what was happening. He felt surprisingly good, an absence of the pain that had been his constant companion for the past weeks. He started trying to make a mental catalog of how he was feeling as he lay there but something was wrong. It was too noisy for a start, faint sounds to be sure but there all the same.

He felt his hand twitch reflexively and realized it was being held but of course he knew better than to try and pull away. Maybe his hand was being tied down somehow or perhaps it was some new game of Seb's.

He listened to the sounds again as he became more conscious. Was that talking? Maybe it was a radio or something but then there were footsteps and the scrape of a chair close by.  
A quiet voice, "Has he woken up yet?" and the whispered "no" in reply.  
His mind must be playing tricks on him again because he would swear that was Jared and Jensen's voices.

With a trickle of hope his recollection began to return, the noise of gunfire and the smell of cordite, the feel of Sebastian's blood on his fingers. Then the blessing of full memory returned, It was over, his angel of mercy had saved him. He opened his eyes. The wall in front of him was painted a soft buttery yellow and there were delicately painted pictures of plants and herbs. Not The Room with it bleak, pale walls; he really was safe.

"Hi" he tried to whisper but all his voice did was rasp, his throat felt odd.  
"Sshh!" Jared was there in an instant, and Misha realized that was who had been holding his hand.  
"You're not supposed to talk for a few days, give your throat a chance to recover, okay?"  
Misha nodded, again amazed by the absence of pain, it felt like he was floating. "I feel good," he mouthed wonderingly, "I'm okay."  
"You're on the good drugs." Jared said with a watery grin and Misha could see that his friend was almost giddy with relief. It was Jay who was clutched his hand and practically vibrated with excitement but Jensen was hovering close by too.

"Yuri? I think maybe he was here last night?" Misha had a vague memory of gripping his brothers hand when he first arrived at the hospital.  
"Yeah," Jared confirmed, "he's been here since you were admitted, Misha. But it wasn't last night, they've kept you sedated for a few days. They wanted to give you a chance to re-hydrate and start to heal a bit, you've been pretty sick."

"Oh." Misha felt a little odd to think that he had been unconscious for a while, somehow it didn't seem fair that he'd remained awake throughout his ordeal but had missed his first days of freedom.  
"God, Misha!" Jared was still clutching his hand like he might vanish at any moment. Misha could appreciate that feeling, he was still afraid that at any minute he might wake up and find it was all a dream.  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Tears glistened in Jared's eyes. "I should have walked you home, should have made you come home with us, I should have kept you safe."  
"Jay, not now," Jensen warned softly. Jared took a deep breath and Misha could see his friend struggling to pull himself back together. Misha found himself strangely unmoved by the outburst, still feeling floaty and impassive. "S'okay," he mouthed again, "on the good drugs, remember?"

"Jared, go and call Yuri, he went home to shower but he'll want to come back now I'm sure." Jensen spoke calmly but firmly and Jared reluctantly let go Misha's hand, "Yeah, I guess I should."

Jensen took Jared's place by Misha's bedside, "Here, this should help your throat." he said quietly and Misha found his composure soothing, Jensen always had been the calm one of their group. He held a spoon to Misha's lips and carefully slid an ice chip into his mouth.

Misha let it dissolve on his tongue, feeling the moisture trickle down his throat and he suddenly was aware of how thirsty he was. "Drink?"  
"Sorry, man. The Doc said just these for a little while, he doesn't want you throwing up and undoing all his hard work in surgery."  
"Surgery? But I . . . why did I need surgery?"  
"The Doctor will tell you when he comes back, he wont be long. He'll want to talk to you now you're awake." Jensen had gone pale, his freckles standing out in stark relief against his skin.

Misha struggled to try and sit up, and Jensen swore, "Fuck! Mish, you gotta stay still, okay? Just stay still and I'll tell you."  
Misha forced himself to relax back, he realized that he was propped somehow so that he was lying on his side. Even the slight movements he made had caused his back to pull and itch.  
Jensen fed him ice chips for a minute, watching as Misha swallowed them while he prepared what he was going to say.

"What he did to you, Misha, when he raped you, especially that last time, he tore you up pretty bad, you've had to have a lot of stitches . . . you know, inside."  
"Oh!" Misha was sort of shocked but as before his reaction was still blunted by the drugs. "My back?" he asked, still using the non voice, not even a whisper.  
"Pretty bad," Jensen confirmed, "but they've been able to stitch a lot of it, some of the older cuts had already started to heal by themselves though and they're most likely to scar. And you've had pneumonia, your lungs have been damaged somehow by what he did to you so you're on antibiotics."

Misha nodded, exhausted again already. "Jensen, thanks, for telling me straight."  
"That's cool, Misha, I guess you need us to be up front with you, yeah?"  
Misha felt himself yawn as he tried to process what Jensen had told him.  
"Will you . . . I don't want to be alone. . .please?" Misha confessed  
"I swear, you haven't been. Me and Jared or Yuri have been with you every minute. We'll keep doing that as long as you need us to."  
Misha nodded, already sliding under again, "Thank you."

 

When he woke again his brother was with him and it was obviously much later in the day, the curtains were drawn and the lights had been turned down low. This time he felt more pain than the last and he guessed they'd lessened the dosage of the good drugs, he couldn't help but moan a little as he shifted position and felt a terrible burning pain deep inside his body, his stomach ached now and he had a headache too.

"Hey bro," Yuri's voice was so dear and familiar Misha almost wanted to weep at the sound. "Never thought I'd hear you again" he muttered weakly, feeling tears begin to well up. He'd longed and prayed so hard to be with Yuri again during the time he was help captive.

Yuri leaned in and tenderly wiped the tears away. "Nah, we're unstoppable, the Collins twins against the world, remember?"  
Misha nodded, "hurts" he confessed weakly.  
"I'll call the nurse," Yuri pressed a button beside the bed "You want some ice to suck while we wait?"  
"Yeah" and Misha let his brother feed him the ice chips, everything seemed too much effort at the moment, he didn't think he'd be able to do it himself.

When the nurse finally arrived she seemed pleased to find Misha was awake, she helped him change position, with Yuri's help rolling him on to his other side. Checking the port in his neck where the IV was being administered. "Does it feel okay?" She asked, "We need to keep going with fluids and nutrition for another couple of days ideally."  
"It's fine," Misha said softly, his throat was really sore now, he didn't even try to speak.

"I can up the painkillers a little," she offered. "But we need you to wake up a little more now so we can't go too high with them, okay?"  
Misha didn't want to sleep again, he wanted to be awake and feel well and have his life back but he could do without the pain.  
"I'm okay, really I am." He insisted. He knew he could handle the pain, he was used to it after all. What he didn't like was being out of it, he hated the thought of how much time he had lost already.

"Hmm. well I'll talk to Mr Rockwell about switching you over to a syringe driver, that way you can be in control, but if you need the pain relief then use it, okay?"  
"Yes, of course." Misha nodded, blue eyes wide and innocent, he knew he would keep the drugs to a minimum, he wanted to know what was happening, still haunted by the missing first days of his time with Sebastian.

Yuri looked at him helplessly, the deep blue eyes that mirrored his own were dark ringed and he looked every bit as terrible as Misha felt. Misha felt dreadful that his brother was suffering like this because of him but he couldn't bear to send his twin away. He couldn't stand the idea of being alone again.

As the nurse left to get the new pain meds written up Misha squeezed Yuri's hand. "Glad you're here" he mouthed. "Me too," Yuri returned. Really there was no need for words between them. When they were little they'd spoken their own 'twin language.' a garbled nonsense of vowel sounds and made up words that had been incomprehensible to everyone but them. Even now they were able to finish each others sentences, and often would phone each other at the exact same time or talk and find they'd chosen the same thing to eat for dinner or were wearing the same color shirt.

Misha couldn't help wondering what difference this would make to them, to their relationship. For the first time in twenty five years one of them was different, he was different and always would be now. His back ripped and scarred, his very mind torn apart and put back together again in a strange and new configuration. For now though it was enough to lie here and let himself drift, anchored to the world by the strength of his brother's grip.

 

*****************************

 

Misha poked dismally at the tray in front of him, finally the nutrition port had been taken out of his neck and he'd been given the go ahead to start eating again. Looking at what had been allowed as part of the 'soft' diet he was restricted to made him wish he was still on liquids.  
"Oatmeal porridge and Jell-O, what crap!" Yuri grinned at the look of disgust on his twins face, "Bad luck , bro," he sympathized. "You'll be on proper food soon enough."  
Misha tried a spoonful of the porridge but the gloopy texture made him retch. He pushed it away and tried the Jell-O, that was nearly as bad, it slipped down better but was slimy and tasted of chemicals. After less than half the pot he gave up.

"God! I longed for real food bad enough back then but now as well? It's not fucking fair!" Misha was ashamed to feel tears threatening to well up, he knew he had to respect the diet he was on or it could cause him severe complications with the surgery he'd had to undergo. It didn't mean he liked it though.  
What are you, six?" Yuri retorted but his expression was sympathetic. "Shall I call that nice nurse, see if she can rustle up some ice cream?"  
Misha nodded with a wan smile. "God! I just need a steak so bad, you know? When I was back there . . . well, he didn't let me eat much, just the odd mug of soup or a couple of cookies." He saw his brother go pale and he hesitated to finish.

"sorry," Yuri apologised, "I know it hurts me, I can't help but be horrified by what you went through but I need you to tell me , I want . . . I need to know. I mean so much of what you went through was kind of guessable by your injuries but, man . . . just tell me all you feel you can, okay? It might make it easier if I know."  
Misha wasn't convinced, he thought that the burden of his ordeal, knowing all the details might be too much for Yuri to bear. Besides which he didn't know if he was up to sharing them just yet.

"After the first few days I stopped feeling hungry, pretty much I just felt sick all the time. But I kept remembering stuff, you know? To try and keep myself sane when I was alone. I thought of you a lot." Yuri squeezed his hand gently.  
Anyway, one of the good memories was when you came down for our birthday last year. Do you remember?"  
Yuri chuckled, "How could I forget?"  
"That diner that looked like it was still in the seventies? With the hideous brown swirly wallpaper?" Misha asked.  
"God yeah, like something out of a dodgy porn movie but the food was amazing!" Yuri remembered.  
"I dreamed of that meal we had; monster steaks so rare that . . ."  
"A good vet could bring it back!" Yuri laughed quoting their father.  
"Exactly." Misha grinned at the memory and his brother's response. "and piled high with chunky fries and mountains of those special home made onion rings."  
"You're making me hungry now," Yuri pouted.  
"And then we had chocolate brownies with ice cream for dessert." Misha sighed, "I just want real food again."  
Yuri stood up, carefully pushing his chair back out of the way. "Well I can't do anything about the rest of it but the ice cream I can get you. " he promised.

Misha watched him go, he loved his brother so much, it was going along way towards alleviating his pain just having Yuri with him full time again. He was scared about leaving the hospital actually, knowing that as he started to recover physically his brother would have to leave him and go back to L.A. He tried to down play how scared he was all the time, the fear that felt like a black hole in his center, sucking all the joy and happiness out of his soul. In his head he knew Sebastian was dead and he was safe but the after effects of his ordeal seemed so huge. The surgery and the scarring and the fear that was beginning to dominate everything.

The first time he had a panic attack he thought he was dieing, all that it had taken to trigger it was a nurse pinning his arm down to take blood. She hadn't hurt him or anything and he hadn't even given any thought to it until suddenly he was gasping for breath, his heart pounding, his eyes sparkling over. She had put an oxygen mask on him and helped him breathe through it but it had terrified him to the core. Even though he had known what was happening the second time round it hadn't made it any easier to deal with.

He looked up as Yuri re-entered the room, carefully carrying a small tub of vanilla ice cream. "Doc says just one but if it stays down you can have more later." He spoke cheerfully enough but Misha could hear the tremor that was underlying his brothers' voice, He knew the strain his twin was under.  
Misha took the pudding and tried it tentatively, it was good and the icy sweetness slid down his throat just right. "Thanks, bro. I . . . I'm pretty tired you know. You don't have to stay after I've eaten."  
Yuri shook his head, "You're not getting rid of me that easy, Jared will be in about six, I'll stay till then."  
Misha nodded gratefully, "K, well, if I fall asleep feel free to go get yourself a coffee or something." Yuri took the empty dessert cup and spoon, helping Misha lower the bed so he was in a more comfortable position for sleeping.

Misha closed his eyes as Yuri stroked his forehead. It was a gesture their mother had used to help them to sleep if one or other of them was ill when they were small.  
"It's just a miracle that I've got you back, Mish. We'll work out the other stuff when you're stronger, okay?"  
"Yeah," Misha agreed sleepily. "Thanks, for being here Yuri. I don't think I could do this without you right now."  
"Well you don't have to, the studio are being pretty awesome about letting me have time off and Stephanie has got it all under control at the apartment. I'm here as long as you need me."

 

Yuri kept up his gentle motions as he soothed his brother into sleep. Five minutes made a big difference as far as he was concerned, that was the length of time that had passed between him being born and his brother. Yuri was the big brother, the protector, his little brother had been attacked in the most heinous way and he'd been unable to stop it. The least he could do was help pick up the pieces now.


	5. Chapter 5

Hope is tenacious. It goes on living and working when science has dealt it what should be its deathblow.

PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR, The Strength of Gideon and Other Stories

 

It was over two weeks before Misha was able to leave the hospital, nearly as long a time as he'd spent in captivity. He was still a long way from being well but he was getting there slowly. The panic attacks were the hardest cross to bear, they had grown so much more frequent and anything could trigger them - an unexpected touch, a loud noise on the TV or a door banging, even a smell sometimes. One of the Doctor's had come in wearing a cologne similar to the one Sebastian had used and it had been enough to have Misha cowering in a corner, rocking back and forth as he sobbed.

It had been a relief in the end to come home, somehow it felt easier to cope back in his own room, the safe haven he'd been longing for. Exhausted by the process of being discharged from the hospital and being driven home he had gone to rest as soon as he got back. He wrapped himself in the hand-stitched comforter that his mom had made him to take to camp when he was a kid and slept better in his own bed than he had since they'd stopped giving him 'the good drugs'.

The rest of the guys who'd given him space and privacy when he was in the hospital came to visit him that first evening. He'd been pleased to see them but the brief visit was exhausting. It was hard to see his friends still looking exactly the same when he felt that he'd been changed so dramatically. they were all trying so hard, trying too hard really, if truth be told. He could see the pent up fury simmering below the surface with Alex and Christian, Steve's over-exaggerated calm as he tried to keep the others quiet. Even Chad who was usually completely insensitive to what was going on around him was subdued, leaving to smoke outside far, far more than he had in the past. Misha gave him some shit for it and as the others fell into their long practiced banter the atmosphere became easier, more normal.

By the end of the evening Misha was starting to actually feel quite good, relaxed and normal. He was just beginning to feel that he actually had a chance of being human again when Christian clapped him on the shoulder on the way back from the bathroom. He did it completely unconsciously, it was how all the guys had behaved around each other for the duration of their friendship. Easy, affectionate and tactile. Misha had always loved it before. Now it sent him into paroxysms of fear, the panic rolling over him in waves, choking him, making his skin break out in a sweat.

He stumbled out of the sitting room, hearing the rising sound of his friends voices as Christian started to freak out, berating himself for what he'd done and the others all joined in the discussion. Misha blindly headed towards his bedroom, dimly aware that his brother was following him. Yuri soothed him gently, wrapping him up in his quilt and helping him lie down in the cool safety of his room.

"I'm so useless, such a freak," Misha muttered, "wanted to see them all so badly, they won't come back now, such a fucking mess."  
"Hey, it's just a panic attack that's all. You don't need to worry about your friends, they'll understand. They don't expect you to just bounce back like nothing happened, for God's sake!" Yuri kept his voice gentle and reached out to stroke Misha's forehead but Misha pulled away. "Please, don't touch me, God I'm so sorry, I jut can't . . ."  
"Hey, it's cool, Misha. Just whatever you need, okay?"  
Misha nodded, feeling the tears still sliding out from beneath his eyelids, he felt so very tired again even though he'd slept before his friends came over.

He was aware of his door opening and thought for a moment that his brother had left the room but as he cracked his eyes open he saw it was Chad who had come in.  
"Hey man, I just wanted a minute to see you alone," he looked up at Yuri with a grin, "well, sort of."  
"Yeah?" Misha looked up at the man who was one of his dearest friends. Especially since Jared had started spending so much of his time with Jensen, Misha and Chad had been hanging out together more and more.  
Chad nodded, "Just wanted you to know, I'm glad you're back, man, is all. I . . . we were all pretty freaked about what happened and . . . well, I missed you. So is it okay if I hang out still?"  
"Dude, please! Chick flick moment!" Misha teased but he was grateful for the support that Chad was offering, every person who he knew was behind him gave him that little bit more strength to carry on.

 

*************************

 

As Yuri helped his brother to get changed into a clean T-shirt ready for bed he was horrified to see just how man scars and marks still crisscrossed Misha's skin. Involuntarily he traced some of the more healed scars, seeing the angry raised scar tissue that had permanently separated them.

Misha's eyes went glassy and his voice took on a strange dispassionate tone as he spoke. "I don't even know how may there are," his voice sounded like it came from far away, "It was pretty much one for each time he raped me."  
Yuri found himself counting, unable to stop, he didn't want to know that these marks cataloged his brothers degradation but he couldn't help himself.  
"see these here," Misha indicated a cluster of three short even stripes in his bicep, he did those all in one session." He indicated the deeper longer slash a little higher up, "This one was punishment for trying to find a way to escape."

Yuri couldn't help but choke back a sob, he had tried to numb himself from this but now the tears began to track down his face, “sixty three!”, he gasped “oh Misha I'm sorry, God I'm so sorry.”  
“Why? it wasn't you that did it.! Misha was still looking so blank and spacey, his voice so even and emotionless and Yuri wanted him to come back so very badly, this was scaring him more than the hysteria and panic attacks did.

"Can you just hurry up, please?" Misha handed his brother the tube of ointment to help the wounds to heal, all the stitches had finally gone now but these deep red lines that made a puzzle of his brothers back were still unbearably itchy as they healed. Yuri realized that this studied blankness was a defense mechanism, Misha's way of coping when he had to let someone touch him. He dashed the tears away, ashamed of his weakness, he was meant to stay strong for his brother.

Gently he uncapped the ointment and began to smear it onto the wounds, he could do this for Misha, he would do anything Misha needed him to do.

 

***************************

As Misha began to recover physically he found his mood swings became more and more dramatic. He started to get snappy with everyone but especially Yuri who bore the brunt of his brother's mood swings. Misha would snap at him one minute then be all weepy if Yuri left the room even for a moment. He would grip his brother's hand and beg him to stay with him then five minutes later he'd flinch away from being touched and tell Yuri to stop crowding him.

It became increasing difficult for Yuri to find time to spend talking to Stephanie on the phone if Misha was awake. Jared tried to distract Misha to give his brother some privacy but that didn't always work. Misha knew he was being unreasonable but he was finding that the more he healed physically the less he was able to cope with how he felt mentally and emotionally. He slept a lot during those early weeks, initially because he felt so exhausted all the time and later because he didn't have to try and cope with how he was feeling if he slept. He knew how much this worried Yuri, though and he would get into awful arguments with his brother about it, one minute berating him and the next begging him to sit with him while he slept.

Misha was self-aware enough to know how destructive this behavior was. He was pushing his brother's love and patience to the very limits and he was afraid that if he didn't sort himself out soon he was in danger of driving Yuri away for good. Finally he made himself sit down with Jared and Jensen to find out how they were doing, he knew it wasn't fair to keep fucking up his brothers life like this. With their support he decided it was time to tackle his brother sensibly about him leaving to go home. On one level he was desperate to keep his brother with him but really he knew that it was best for both of them to have a break from each other for a while.

As expected Yuri didn't take the idea well at first. Misha chose to have the conversation in the kitchen, all too aware of the claustrophobia that came from sharing his small bedroom together. He wanted to try and keep the conversation sensible, he knew it was all too easy for him to descend into hysteria if he wasn't careful these days. Yuri refused to sit down at the kitchen table, choosing instead to pace up and down the kitchen as Misha spoke before point blank refusing to go.

Misha forced himself to stay calm as he tried to explain to his twin how he was feeling. "Yuri, we’re not the same anymore, he’s remade me into someone different. I can’t look at you without seeing my scars, without knowing that you're still whole and I'm broken. I need some space to come to terms with that." He put his hands flat on the table, he was warm in his long sleeved shirt but couldn't bear to wear short sleeves anymore, he hated to catch a glimpse of the scars on his arms, didn't want anyone else to see them either because he didn't know how he'd deal with their reactions.

Yuri shook his head in disbelief, "You'll be better soon, Mish" he promised and tried to put his arms around his brother.  
"Don't touch me, please, please don't!" Yuri was anguished, he hated having to keep his brother away but anyone touching him at the moment sent Misha into such paroxysms of panic it was unbearable.

"I know what you’re trying to do, Misha." Yuri looked distraught, he hovered in front of his brother obviously desperate to reach out to him. "We’re still the same what ever you say. You can’t send me away like this." He begged, "Misha, please."

Misha stood up and went to make coffee, using the time to calm himself down again and gather his thoughts. He really wanted to get through to his twin how important it was to Misha that Yuri be able to live his own life. Yuri watched him as he got out mugs and boiled the kettle, carefully adding milk and sugar to Yuri's mug, leaving his own black. Yuri finally sank down into a chair, his eyes never leaving Misha for a second.

Misha put the drinks on the table and sat opposite his brother, forcing his twin to meet his gaze. "I’m broken Yuri, and I don't think anyone else can fix me." he confessed. "I can't even let my own brother touch me, let alone anyone else."  
"Its going to take time, Misha, man. I understand i really do." Yuri was trying so hard to be whatever Misha need of him but Misha was starting to see that this was going to be something he would have to do for himself.

"Well if you understand then do something for me, please?" Misha was proud of himself, so far he'd managed to stay calm, there wasn't even a hint of a tremor in his voice.  
"Anything Mish, you know that."

"Well, then Please just do as I ask. You go soon, maybe even tomorrow. We’ll watch movies tonight and order in pizza and I can pretend everything’s normal again for a little while. But then i need you to leave."

"Misha no," Yuri pleaded. "You’re . . . I mean its only been ten days since you came out of hospital."  
"I know and I'm . . . not fine, along way from fine., I know that.! Misha gave his brother a tiny smile. "But I have no broken bones and I'm eating again, the scars are mostly healed." He pulled every reserve of strength he had left, "and you can come back again, I mean, i want you to come back again but now I need you to go home to Stephanie, tell her you love her in person. i need to know one of us is happy and whole and loves someone because i don't know if i ever can again."  
"You’re an idiot, Misha!" Yuri said fondly and Misha could tell he was finally getting through to him.  
"Maybe I am but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. I have friends here. I am going to be okay but its going to be a long haul and knowing you're happy and living your life will help me find the strength to start to live mine again."

"I don't know," Yuri wavered and Misha was quick to press home his advantage. "Stephanie needs you too, it's not fair to leave her alone this long."  
Finally Yuri capitulated. "Okay but promise me you'll call me if you need me to come back. Hell! maybe a change of scene might do you good, you could come and stay when you feel up to traveling."  
"That would be cool too, bro'." Misha agreed. He hauled himself up from the chair and stood up next to his brother, "I love you, Yuri." He breathed in and put his arms out, grasping his brother's shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. As gently as if Misha was made of glass Yuri returned the hug, glad to be able to hold his twin again. They stood like that for some time, Misha finally resting his head on Yuri's shoulder and allowing himself to take comfort from just being held.

"Okay," Yuri finally agreed, "I have something you might need." He reached into his wallet and took out the small rectangle of pasteboard. "Do you remember Derek Morgan, the FBI agent?"  
"Yeah" Misha's avenging angel, how could he forget, he had rescued Misha from the jaws of hell and he had understood Misha's need to see for himself that Sebastian was dead.  
“He gave me this, said you might have some questions for him, said you could call if you needed him.”

Misha turned it over in his hand, looked at the single row of numbers printed there below Morgan's name. "Yeah, I might just do that."

"One more person for team Misha, right?" Yuri grinned. "With all of us behind you you've got no choice but to get well."

 

**************************

 

Jared didn't talk about the times he'd slept with Misha, although Jensen knew about it he didn't want to dwell on the fact and by mutual consent none of them mentioned it. It was just easier that way. It didn't stop him from thinking about it sometimes though, it was so hard to reconcile the fun loving best friend who'd been so sexual and open with this timid shell of a man who crept silently round the house and seemed scared of his own shadow.

It hurt Jared on an intense level to see it, the only thing worse would have been for it to happen to Jensen. His boyfriend did what he could to help take care of Misha but Jared still felt responsible in some way for the trauma that his friend had suffered and tried to shoulder the majority of Misha's needs now.

After Yuri had gone Misha had seemed calmer, sad but determined and Jared had been actually quite please to see the spark of his old friend still there, the strength of character might be buried under a layer of fear right now but it hadn't been put out completely.

It was almost more than Jared could bear though when Misha came out of the shower and asked Jared to help him put on the soothing ointment he still needed for the scars on his back. Jared hadn't really been prepared for the extent of the injuries, he was pale and shaking and just so relived that Misha couldn't see his face right now.

When they had been together before Misha's skin had been perfect, a pale gorgeous stretch which showed the definition of the muscles below. Now there was hardly an inch that didn't show the marks of Roche's sick handiwork. Even now the stitches had come out the scars still latticed his friends back as though he'd been used to play some monstrous game of tic tac toe.

Jared found himself blinking back tears as he gently smoothed the ointment onto Misha's skin, aware of Misha trembling beneath Jared's touch. It cost him so much to let anyone else touch him. Jared could only try and get this over with for both their sakes. Jared tried to keep his touch firm but gentle as he smoothed the ointment down Misha's neck and arms. The scars would fade a lot more eventually but now they were still fresh, raised and pink and Jared would have given anything for them to just disappear.

Misha's hand drifted up to cover Jared's for a moment as he let his fingers linger near Misha's throat. "He used to drink from them," he admitted softly. "That's why he cut me, he drank my blood."  
"Oh God," Jared couldn't think of anything to say, he hadn't thought of the cutting as anything more than an act of violence, to hear they were part of some bizarre fetish made them seem worse somehow. Misha let his hand drop and Jared kept on applying the ointment in slow, tender sweeps as though he could eradicated their horror with his touch.

Afterward Misha thanked him in that terrible quiet voice he used now, again so different from the way he'd spoken before. Jared found it heartbreaking and he found himself praying that Misha would get well enough to regain his former impish sexuality. He was too good a man not to deserve happiness and Jared dearly hoped his friend would get the chance to find it with somebody and someday soon.

 

*************************

 

Another week passed and Misha was trying hard not to be so dependent and needy now his brother wasn't around to take the brunt of it but it was so hard sometimes. He knew Jared would do anything for him and he didn't want to take advantage but the nightmares were starting to really trouble him, he would often awake in the night to find Jared and Jensen with him and as he calmed down would realize that he been calling out and crying in his sleep.

Even more disturbing were the rohypnol flashbacks that he began to suffer during the daytime. Although he had been warned that they might happen Misha still found them terrifying. One night as he lay drifting of to sleep he was shocked upright by the remembered events of his earliest day in captivity. The clarity of the memory dropping in to his consciousness for the first time, left him gasping for breath as the panic gripped him by the throat.

For the first time he was aware of Sebastian taking him into The Room. He felt himself sagging limply, unable to fight as the older man cut off Misha's clothes and explored his body for the first time. Hated the feeling as he lay there compliant for Sebastian to play with like a doll, licking, biting and sucking over every inch of his body. He felt violated all over again, wished he could return to the place where those memories weren't added to the ones he already had to bear. He huddled into his quilt and felt sullied by it all, felt dirty to the very core of his being.

As the terror began to recede Misha lay on his bed staring round the room, it had seemed so cool before to paint he walls in various colors, purple, blue green and red, a different one for each wall. The posters that were haphazardly scattered and his big wall hanging, it just seemed so oppressive now, he felt as though he was going to suffocate. It was as if the walls were closing in, he had to get out.

He headed out of his room hoping to find solace or at least distraction in the living room with his friends he was disheartened when he found the room was empty. Judging from the noises that were issuing from Jared's bedroom it didn't take too many guesses as to what he and Jensen were up to. In the past it would have been a subject for humor, something to tease the boys about later, now it only served to highlight how lonely and damaged he was feeling.

He forced himself into the bathroom, remembering the terrifying feeling of being hosed down that first time, the water flooding his eyes and mouth. The sensation of being dirty outweighed that however and he took another shower anyway, scrubbing at his skin till it was pink and sore.

 

Back in his room he looked at the walls and felt them closing in on him again. The walls in The Room had been too stark but these were just banal and stupid, belonging to the immature boy he would never be again. He began to tear down the posters, the tennis girl one that Chad had given him, insisting that it was a purely ironic statement, shredded satisfyingly beneath his fingers. Next a Pracovnik poster of a huge, winged dragon and then a poster for one of Kane's concerts; all of them now falling in tattered strips to the floor.

He was really getting into it now, allowing the anger to come boiling to the surface, he wanted to scream but didn't dare, still too conscious of his throat. Misha never shouted or even spoke in a loud voice since he came home from the hospital. Just another way he was different, not the same stupid kid any more who'd put this stuff up. When he pulled down the tie dyed wall hanging it brought down a jagged piece of wall paper too, the tear in the wood chip looking like a scar as it revealed the pink plaster beneath.

Misha used it to get a hold of and tore more of the paper away, watching with satisfaction as the blood red strip came easily from the walls. Pulling again and again until his room was in tatters, rags of colored wall paper pooled all around him. Even the curtains came down, dragged off the pole and torn again and again with a strength he didn't know he was capable of.

Finally exhausted he sank down in the center of the heap and began to sob, he'd fucked his room up now and was bitterly satisfied as he looked at the results of his labors, a fucked up room for a fucked up Misha. It was fitting even if it meant he'd just cost them their damage deposit.

 

**********************************

Misha woke from another four hour doze feeling lethargic and un-refreshed. He knew he was sleeping too much but felt powerless to stop himself, as soon as he lay down his head crowded with memories and the only way to make them leave was to let himself give in and sleep.

Since the nightmares had got so bad he'd been prescribed sleeping tablets his sleep was usually deep and undisturbed and if he dreamed now he didn't remember. However this time he had awoken with a very clear recall of dreaming about his captor but this time he also recalled his rescuer. Logically he knew there had been an entire team of them but as far as he was concerned it was easier to focus on just one, the one whose deep velvety voice had signaled their arrival. The one who had killed Seb and had helped Misha see for himself that the man was truly dead.

He carried the man's card like a talisman, never quite brave enough to call him. Now as the dream memory of Sebastian still clung to his skin making the scars on his back burn like fire, he could feel his breathing speeding up and he knew he was heading for a full blown panic attack.

Shakily he reached for his cell phone, he'd already programmed in the number. He was almost going to hang up again but he wanted to hear that voice again telling him he was safe. Morgan answered within a couple of rings, Misha could hear talking in the background.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll call back." He could hear the shakiness in his still too quiet voice.  
"Chill, dude, not a problem. Is this Misha?"  
"Yeah, yes. You gave my brother your number for me." Misha was trying so hard now to get his breathing back under control to focus on the man he was talking to. He only had the haziest memory of what the other man looked like, in Misha's mind he was impossibly tall, with skin like chocolate and he'd felt safe again when the other man had carried him.  
"I was really hoping you'd call." Morgan's voice was every bit as warm and reassuring as Misha had remembered.  
"I don't know why I called you, I'm sorry, I . . . " Misha tailed off as he felt a lump rising in his throat.  
"It's cool, man. I really did want to speak to you. After what you went through I figured you might have questions for me anyway but I can just talk too or listen, whatever you need is cool."  
"Th . . .Thanks." Misha choked out but he could feel the lump in his throat gradually receding as the other man spoke.  
"So you're out of hospital now, yeah? How are you getting on?"

Misha hesitated for a moment, usually when anyone asked him he automatically just said "I'm fine," not wanting to go into details but if he could trust anyone with how he was really feeling it was Derek.

"Not so good," he answered honestly. "I mean I'm healing up pretty well but I have dreams, flashbacks and I feel like I'm falling apart."  
"That's tough," Morgan sympathized. "Do you know if he drugged you? that can sometimes make flashbacks worse."  
"He did, that's how he took me, made me drink something and when I woke up I don't know how much later it was but he'd . . . he'd raped me."  
"Man, that must make for some pretty grim flashbacks then, it was probably rohypnol that he gave you."  
"Yeah, that's what they thought in the hospital." He took a deep breath, already feeling calmer despite the topic of conversation.  
"I guess I wanted to thank you, for rescuing me also but for what you did after. It makes it a bit easier to cope with the dreams and the memories knowing he's really gone."  
"Good, I hoped it would. Listen, my beeper just went off, I have to get into work but call me again, okay? Anytime you need me."

The other man sounded so sincere Misha took comfort from knowing he had a friend, one who knew the very worst of what he'd done but who was still willing to talk to him. He hadn't confessed to anyone yet the majority of what had happened, pushing the most terrible moments down although they still haunted him. The very worst dreams were the ones where he ached to come and begged Sebastian for release. Longed for the other mans touch. How Sebastian's smooth delicate fingers had felt so good as they cooled his heated flesh.

 

**********************************

 

Misha couldn't tell the boys how much he hated the new look they'd given his room. They'd tried so hard to surprise him by clearing up all his destruction and given it a new paint job while he was having a check up at the hospital. How could they know that the clean, pale ivory color was the same shade as the walls of The Room. They didn't need to know about the shock of memory that he felt when he looked at the bland boring walls.

He tried to ignore it, he knew they were all moving to the new place at the end of the summer vacation anyway. He knew he was going with them, they were as near as he had to a home now anyway; he just didn't know yet if he was going back to school or not.

He huddled in his bed, the quilt warm around his neck; it was too hot to use it really but he still carried the ghosts with him, how he had felt so totally exposed. The quilt gave him security and comfort. Gave him a place to burrow in and shut out the world when he wanted to do nothing but hide from his memories and sleep. Even though it had been washed so many times he still fancied he could smell his mom's perfume on it, and he could certainly see her love for him in every tiny, patiently worked stitch.

*******************************

"I'll be fine, Jay. It's only for a couple of hours." Misha said earnestly.  
I know but . . . will you call if you need me to come home?" Jared's voice was still doubtful.

For the first time in who knew how long Steve and Christian were playing a gig in a nearby bar and Misha knew how much Jared and Jensen wanted to go. How much all his friends wanted to go and everyone would be there, it would be the final get together before some of them headed off for the vacation. Hell! Misha himself would have loved to be there but he wasn't ready for a public outing yet so he was trying to convince Jared to go without him.

"Please, Jared, I'm fine. I'm tired so I'll probably just go to bed anyway." Misha didn't even have to fake a yawn, he was truly tired, he had been trying to stop himself from sleeping in the day so much which meant he was ready to go to bed pretty early.  
Finally convinced, his friends had left a couple of hours back to head out to the Country and western Bar where their friends were playing.

He had had a pleasant evening to start with, had made himself a sandwich and eaten a bowl of cereal as he watched TV. Had then allowed himself the luxury of a long hot bath, he usually preferred to take showers but with the house empty he didn't feel as though he was hogging the bathroom tonight. It wasn't until he began to doze in the hot water that he started to have flashbacks to his time with Sebastian.

He hurled himself out of the water, still hearing Roche's elegant drawl whispering in his ear. He tried to steady his breathing but it wasn't working, he could feel a full blown panic attack coming on, his eyes sparking and his head spinning, Misha was terrified that he was going to pass out. He raced to his bedroom, he had to be somewhere safe before he gave in and lost control.

Grabbing up his phone he shakily found the number he wanted to call, silently pleading for his friend to answer as he hid himself away.

"I heard him, he talked to me," Misha gasped, "he told me I was his bitch and he was coming for me."

Misha sat in a knotted ball of pain and fear, crammed into the tiny space at the back of his closet, forced in behind boxes and bags of junk.  
"They went out and I had a bath and I heard him talking to me! Fuck Derek he talked to me!"  
"you're going to be alright, Misha. It was a dream, just a dream, just breathe now and relax. you know he's dead Misha, he cant hurt you anymore, you know that, you saw me put a bullet through his brain." Morgan's voice was steady and even, his sense of calm reaching through the phone to slowly penetrate the fog of fear that surrounded Misha.  
"Y . . .yes," Misha breathed damply, slowly starting to uncurl just a little. The flashback had been so real, so terrible but at the soothing sound of Morgan’s rich chocolate voice the horror was starting to recede.  
"Okay then good, that's good. Misha I know that's why you call me, you need me to tell you that he's dead and you're safe. Misha, are you seeing a therapist yet?"  
"No, Misha admittedly softly. " He . . . he was my friend, Derek. How can I ever trust anyone again after that?"  
It's hard, misha i know that but you’ll get there, i promise you’ll get there. Where are you now?”  
“I . . . I hid in my closet again. I'm such a fuck up”  
“No you're not. what happened to you was horrendous, the panic attacks are your body's way of coping, of trying to keep you safe. Now, can you get out of the closet Misha? Take yourself to bed?”  
“I think so,” Misha forced himself to stand and push the door open,  
“I'm still here,” Morgan reassured.  
“okay, i'm . . . I'm okay. I'm sorry, you can go now, I'll be okay.” Misha was still shaking, could feel his voice trembling too but he hated that he was taking up more of Morgan's time.  
“I don’t mind, Misha. I don't give out my private number to many people you know.”  
Misha gave a tiny shaky laugh, “I'm honored, thank you.”

“There’s this little girl calls me too sometimes, a psycho killed her dad and kidnapped her, killed a bunch of people in front of her. All this fallout from what these evil sons of bitches do. I know I cant help everyone, I don't try to keep in touch with everyone we save but you and Ellie, a couple of others, there’s just something about you that sets you apart.”  
“Oh,” Misha was taken aback at Morgan’s confession, he could hear the genuine honesty and compassion in his friend's voice.  
“We have a woman here at work, you never saw her, she always stays back in Quantico when she can, her name is Penelope Garcia. She has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known."  
"Yeah?" Misha was starting to feel sleepy again, the panic and adrenalin that had flooded his body was being replaced by a creeping lethargy as Morgan's voice continued to rumble gently in his ear.  
“Anyway I think its something of the same qualities that she has that i saw in you,”  
“That's a good thing right?” misha said softly, all the panic and fear of earlier gone from his voice.  
“oh yeah, Garcia’s a very special lady.”  
“Is she your girlfriend?”  
“nah, I'm not that lucky. I guess maybe one day if the circumstances were different but not here and now, not while I'm doing this job.”  
“ah. D'you think I'll ever have anyone special again?” Misha knew he sounded small and lost even as he spoke but Morgan knew everything, he had seen everything, there could be no hiding from him anyway.  
“Yes”, His voice was strong and certain, “you will Misha, you’re good, you’re strong, you’re special. You’ll be ready again one day. just trust yourself, trust your instincts.”  
“Thanks, Derek really thank you. I’m okay to sleep now, Jared will be back soon.”  
“You sure?”  
“uhuh.”  
“Okay then, well call me again if you need me, or even if you don’t. You can just call me to say you’re doing okay.”  
“Yeah, one day i hope”, Misha said softly but there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

“My team, we've got a thing about quotes and when i found this one the other day I thought of you.”  
“Yeah?” Somehow it made Misha feel better to know Derek thought of him without Misha having to call him and panic at him down the phone first.  
“Uhuh. It's from this book called The Shack, you should read it, it's pretty awesome. Anyway it goes "Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly . . . and if left unresolved for very long, you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place."  
“Oh that's , yeah, I get that”. It appealed to Misha on a deep level, that someone had the same relationship with pain that he did.  
“I thought you would, Misha. You're wings were only clipped, not broken, You will be able to fly again one day and soon I hope.”  
“Thanks Derek, it means a lot to hear that from you. G'night.”  
“Night Misha. sleep well now. You can call back if you need me, first night alone was pretty momentous yeah?"

 

Even after Derek had finally gone Misha continued to clutch the phone in his hand drawing comfort from knowing that he could call for help if he needs to. He really does feel better now though and hethinks that he will be able to settle down. He knows he won’t be able to sleep again until Jared and Jensen get home but hopefully he’s settled enough now that he can read a bit.

After a while he got up and dressed again, he wanted to be able to hear about the gig and how it had gone, maybe even share a beer with his friends when they came back. Somehow Morgan's conversation had made him feel a step closer to being human again.

 

***************

 

The school semester had officially ended a few weeks ago but Jared and his friends weren't due to go home except for short visits. Most of them had part time jobs and they had planned on using the summer vacation to take on extra hours to earn money for the coming school year.

“I'm sorry Misha, believe me i know what you're going through is crap and i know Jared wants to be there for you but man, look at him! He's falling apart. While you were missing he didn't sleep for three weeks straight, all this now its too much.”

Jensen looked helplessly from Jared to Misha and back again, “I just need to get away for a bit, I can't watch you doing this to each other, I promised my mom I'd be home this vacation and Jared, i really want you to come with me but if you cant well that's okay. I understand you're a loyal friend and that's a part of why I love you, its just . . . I think you need a break. I think you need time to rest and get some strength back.”

He cast another anguished look in Misha's direction. "I want to be there for you in the long haul man, really I do but aw fuck, can't you see what this is doing to us?"

Jared still sat looking at his shoes, scuffing a patch in the carpet and Misha wanted him to be able to go, he really did, he kept watching his friend, silently pleading for him to stand up, to go with Jensen.

"I'm gonna go pack, I want to catch the flight out first thing in the morning. I'll call you later to see what you've decided to do okay, Jay?"

He cast one last look at them, "So sorry Misha, I promise I'll be in it whatever you need when i get back."

Misha nodded, "It's cool, Jensen. I understand, you've done so much for me already. Please don't worry, I'll be fine. For what it's worth I think Jared should go too. Hell! I'm getting claustrophobia living with me at the moment."  
"I cant leave you alone," Jared said stubbornly "I promised."  
"Well don't then!" Misha's voice was filled with fond exasperation. "If you think I need a babysitter get one of the others to come round, hell! set up a fucking rota! just do us both a favor and take a break with Jensen before you drop.”  
Jared sighed, "I don't want to Mish, I want to stay here with you"  
I'm calling bullshit on that one. Misha looked at his friend fondly, man before all this crap happened all you could talk about was going home with Jensen and meeting his folks.  
“No,” Jared said stubbornly a tic pulsing in his cheek.  
Misha looked over at Jensen with a wry smile,” Don't tell me its why you love him right?”  
Jensen shrugged, “something like that he acknowledged.”  
“ Guess we're at an impasse than.” Misha said with a sigh.  
“looks that way,” Jared said moodily, still not meeting his boyfriends eyes.

Misha thought desperately for a moment, he didn't want to be alone that much was true, but equally he didn't want to be responsible for Jared having a break down or splitting up with Jensen. The question was, which of their friends could he cope with having around. Alex and Christian were both too Alpha male, they were still too angry about what had happened to Misha to make it easy for him to be in their company for long.

He looked up to see what his friends were doing while he was lost in thought, Jensen was kneeling on the floor in front of Jared, his hands on Jared's knees, talking softly but earnestly while Jared still looked mulish.

Misha slid open his cell and dialed the one friend he thought he could cope with for long periods of time. "Hey, Chad, you busy for the next couple of weeks? Wanna come for a sleepover?"

He looked over at Jared and held his thumb up. “Cool, thanks man, I owe you. Yeah Jay man's gotta take a break from his mother hen routine before he actually lays an egg.”


	6. Chapter 6

Rossi - "Scars remind us where we've been, they don't have to dictate where we're going."

 

Chad arrived in the morning to have coffee with the J's before they left for the airport, Misha felt more lighthearted than he had in a while and he wondered almost guiltily if he and Jared had been allowing their weariness and depression to feed off each other. He suspected it was true of Jared too because the other man looked happier than he'd seen him for a while.

They had a quiet day in the garden, Misha had pottered about for a while doing random bits of weeding before deciding that Chad was right and it was too hot. They lazed around in deck chair, drank loads of pitchers of iced tea and let Chad inflict his latest musical 'finds' on the neighbors at loud volume on the boom box.

When they'd finally gone in Misha had taken a shower to get rid of the gunky sun cream he'd smothered himself in. He though Chad was quieter than usual, had been using the music to avoid making conversation but he wasn't really troubled by it until after dinner when he realized that Chad had been doing anything to avoid having an actual conversation with him. The situation only got worse after they'd washed up and headed through to the sitting room.

Chad had been on edge all evening, Misha could see it in the way he held himself, how his friend was constantly fidgeting and prowling around the room. Even now they’d eaten and were supposedly going to chill out for the evening the younger man was still on edge and his mood was affecting Misha.

“Knock it off Chad.” he finally gave vent to what he was feeling. “If you don't want to be here you can leave, I’ll be fine, I don't need a babysitter!”  
Chad looked at him horrified, his blue eyes wide and hurt.  
"God Mish no! It’s not that I don't want to be with you, I do of course I do."

Misha was still decidedly rattled, it was so hard for him now to trust anyone, he had thought he could handle being with Chad but if his friend was going to behave like this, so weird and off kilter then Misha thought he would rather be by himself.  
"Well what then, what the fuck is this all about? You wont look me in the eye you wont settle down, I don't need this!"  
Chad reached out to grasp his friends shoulder and Misha backed off hurriedly,  
“No!”  
Chad held up his hands quickly, “Sorry, sorry, I forgot.”  
Misha was breathing rapidly, half panicked but still in a state where he could come back from the edge if he tried.  
“It’s okay, man, just breathe you're okay, you're safe.” Chad knelt on the floor in front of Misha, finally meeting his eye and all Misha could see was friendship and he allowed himself to be talked down until he was finally able to sit on the edge of the couch.

“Can I sit here on this end or would you rather I sat in the chair?” Chad asked, and Misha hated it so god damn much that this stupid shit meant his friend had to even ask him that.  
“Its okay,” Misha said, “you can sit here, just . . . not too close okay? I don't mean to freak out but it just happens.”

“Beer might make this easier? I don't know are you still on any meds or stuff? Are you allowed a beer? god know i need one, or a soda, i could bring you a soda if you need one.”  
“Chad, stop rambling, you’re worse than Jared. Yes, a beer sounds like a damned good idea right now.”

Misha sat still, trying to center himself, doing the breathing the way he had been taught to ground himself and fend off the panic. He was rather proud of himself actually at how well it worked, he had managed to fend off a potentially nasty panic attack and was still feeling remarkably sane afterward.

When Chad returned with the two drinks he popped the caps off and handed one to Misha before drinking half of his at one go. He sat as far as possible from Misha and began picking at the label, using his fingernail to scratch tiny paper ribbons off.

“Chad?” Misha didn't want to have secrets, he needed to know why his friend was so upset. “Please, if you cant cope with this I understand. What I went through . . . I’m different now, I get that.”

Chad looked at him with a smile and a harsh little sigh, “Don’t be a moron, its not that okay.”  
"What then?" Misha felt like he was swimming through treacle, Chad was usually so open and straightforward. He wasn’t used to his friend being evasive like this. "Chad?"

"It should have been me" Chad voice was anguished as he finally spat out what was troubling him. " don't you get it? It was me he wanted, he'd been flirting with me all night."  
"Wh . . . what do you mean Chad. tell me"  
“he . . . fuck! I stayed on after class that day and I blew him in the stationary closet. I'm sorry, God, Mish I'm so sorry. i don't know why he changed his mind that night but fuck Mish, I feel like this, what happened to you, its my fault, its my fault you're so damned broken and i don't know what to do to fix you, you fix this.”

“Chad, man i get where you're coming from but its not your fault, you gave it up too easy baby, that's what saved you he wanted someone who put up a fight to start with so he could break their spirit. He knew i didn't want him at the party, so maybe you were his first choice but its not your fault, this is nobody's fault but his.”

“Fuck it, how can i help you?”

“I don't know man, i don't know if anyone can, I guess maybe I've got to help myself.” He inched along the sofa, it had been so long since he'd touched anyone, he wasn't sure if he could but he wanted to, wanted so badly all of a sudden to be able to take comfort again from a simple hug. He couldn't help but snort with laughter as he said, “hold me, Chad” and before Chad would have joined in the laughter teased or made an obscene joke but as it was he just did as Misha asked and put his arms round Misha's shoulders pulling him in close in a gesture that brought them both a measure of comfort.

“Is this okay?” Chad asked gently, for all his brash exterior he truly cared about all his friends. What had happened to Misha had appalled him and it had gone a long way towards dampening down his normal high spirits.

Misha thought for a moment, "Yeah, yeah I am actually. It's . . . I'm . . ."  
"If it helps you can talk to me about it,” Chad offered. “I know I'm an idiot and a douche and all of the other things people call me but this is . . . your friendship is one of the few things I hold sacred. I swear I won't ever mention it again or . . . or do anything to screw things up between us." He looked earnestly at Misha. "I promise you're safe with me, you can tell me anything."

Misha felt a little something inside him give at the other mans words, he knew how much it meant that Chad was putting himself and his feelings on the line like that. He was able to relax a little, knowing that he was safe with Chad. For a moment he wondered about talking, wasn't sure if it was fair to Chad to unload on him, to tell the younger man what was going on in Misha's mind.

“Hey,” Chad said softly, “I can hear you thinking. I promise you what happened, it's not going to freak me out any worse than whatever I've imagined. I had to go in to the Precinct and give a statement, you remember that really hot chick from the feebs? What was she called?”  
“Emily Prentiss?"  
“Yeah her, anyway I got there early and I saw all the crime scene photos from the other victims, spread across this big board, your photo underneath them, it was . . . I know he cut you Misha, i know he raped you. You're still my best friend it doesn't change anything.”

“It changes me,” Misha said softly, “I'm not the same person he took.”  
“You are,” Chad insisted, “he might have buried that person under a layer of fear but you made it out, Misha you're so strong.”  
“I'm not,” Misha shook his head, “I made it out because I was weak, i gave in let him do what ever he wanted. I let him do it all, i even begged him for it when he told me to. By the end I was begging him to fuck me just so he would hold me afterward and tell me i was good!

“That took strength, Misha”, and it wasn't until Chad leaned closer to wipe his face that Misha realized he was crying, the tears pouring down his face as if of their own volition.  
“I'm proud of you, Mish. So proud that you survived all that.”

Misha couldn't breathe now, the flood of tears were coming so fast. He didn't know what he was crying for, what he had lost or how he changed, the innocence he had had before. But now he had started it didn't feel like he could stop.

Chad held him while he cried, sobbing out words of guilt and pain, half formed fragments of what he had endured lost in a torrent of tears and snot. Chad took it all, absorbed it with his body as he cradled his friend in his arms, rubbing soothing patterns on his back.

When the storm finally abated Chad handed him his beer and peeled off his ruined T-Shirt, revealing a pale pink wife beater beneath. Misha drained his beer thirstily, he hadn't known he was capable of such a storm of sadness, for so long he had yo-yoed between fear and anger, it actual felt better to have got some of that stuff off his chest.

“You're not really a douche at all are you?” Misha said with a still slightly watery.  
shh, don't tell everyone! Chad stretched his arm out behind Misha, giving him space to curl up and lie down.

Misha lay back a little further allowing himself to be finally be held by his friend. It felt a little odd after all this time of refusing to be touched but it was good all the same. he was so tired all the time, he could spend twenty hours a day sleeping and still be tired. He closed his eyes. He remembered suddenly that last night at the party, the rohypnol had messed up his memory of it but he often got flashes of recall. Now he could feel himself lying against Jared and the happy, lazy feeling he'd experienced as Jared had sifted his fingers through Misha's hair. Sadly Misha wondered if he would ever be able to relax enough around someone else to feel that again.

Being here with Chad though, was good. It was close and he'd never allowed anyone in this far since it had happened. And he wanted to explain to Chad he really did.  
"The not being touched thing, it's .. . it's not because I think you'll hurt me, okay? I know I'm safe with you guys, I do." He took a deep breath, "It's like, remember when you were a kid and they came round and did the Personal safety talk?"  
Chad nodded, Misha could feel the movement from the man behind him.  
"Well it was a lot like that, really. Bad touches and good touches. He'd make me hurt and hurt and hurt until I didn't think I could feel anything but pain and then if he thought I'd been good, if I'd let him do what he wanted without flinching or pulling away then he rewarded me with good touches. He'd fix me up or give me a bath or feed me. He was always so gentle then, so. . . so loving. It's hard for me now to think I've earned the right for you to hold me like this."

Chad stiffened behind him, Misha could feel the tremors running through his friends body. He tried to pull away grief stricken by the thought that he'd upset his friend.  
"Misha, please. It's alright, I'm not going to make you stay, I'm not going to pull you back but I want to be here for you." Misha stayed where he was, not pulling away further but not yet ready to lean back again. He turned a little so he could see Chad's face, scrutinizing his expression for evidence that Chad was revolted by his behavior.  
“Misha, its not you, I swear it’s not. I'm so angry still at him, at what he made you do. Listen to me,” Chad lifted his hand, letting it hover in the air for a moment before dropping it back to his lap, he so obviously wanted to touch his friend, to offer comfort that way. "Mish, you never have to earned the right to be touched kindly or to be held. Please, just trust me enough to let me hold you now. I feel so damned helpless over all of this, just let me do this now."

Misha let out another shaky breath, he could do this, he could. Chad was safe and genuine, he breathed out again letting some of the tension leave him on the gust of air. Slowly he slid himself back until he was comfortable, “Okay, yes, okay.” He tucked his legs up underneath him on the couch and put a pillow on Chad's lap, curling round until he was comfortable with his head on the pillow and Chad's arm holding him safe.

Chad picked up the TV remote and selected a movie they had both seen several times before, something innocuous and silly, he left the volume turned down low. Is this okay?”  
“ I‘m really tired, I'm sorry, i might not be very good company”.  
“Hey dude, I don't love you for your sparkling wit you know.”  
“Why then?” even sleepy as he was and finally feeling safe Misha felt a spark of curiosity as to why Chad was still here, not scared off by the monumental pile of crap that Misha was carrying around with him.  
Chad shrugged, “You're my friend, you see through all my bullshit and you care about me anyway, you always have. That hasn't changed.”  
“Mmm” Misha murmured sleepily.  
"And Chad continued, “I know that we can snuggle like girls all night and you won't take videos of me drooling to put on Youtube.”

Misha gently punched him on the arm before allowing himself finally to give in and doze. Dimly he heard Chad change the TV channel, watching something mindless. He was aware that his friend was still taking care of him, keeping the volume low, watching something bland and nonthreatening, no scary noises, no loud bangs. “You’re a good man, Chad.”  
“shhh! please don’t tell everyone, its my best kept secret.”

 

************************************

Gradually over the course of the summer Misha began to improve. He knew his heart to heart with Chad had been the start of it, enabling him to little by little overcome his paranoia about being touched, he still didn't do well with being touched unexpectedly but now if one of his friends offered a hug or a pat on the arm he was fine with it.

He didn't need someone with him all the time now either, although Jared and Chad between them kept him company more often than not. Alex was back from Hawaii looking more fit and tanned than ever and he often hung out with them in between training sessions. Yuri too had flown in for brief visit when he had a couple of days gap in his filming schedule. It had been good to catch up with his brother under less fraught circumstances.

He still struggled to leave the house though, always afraid who he might meet, because what had happened to him had been so much in the public eye he struggled to maintain his privacy. After a particularly grueling incident at the grocery store Misha had shut himself in his room and wept, Jared pounded on the door to be let in but Misha pleaded with him to give him space.

"I'll come out when I'm ready, Jared please" he'd begged.  
"Ten minutes or I'm coming in" Jared had threatened and finally Misha had emerged, still sniffy but feeling better for his outburst. At least his session with Chad had shown him he felt better to let things out rather than bottle them up.

Dude what happened? Jared's face was a picture of concern, Misha had only recently started leaving the house alone so he was all too aware of what this setback could do to his friend.  
"It was a little old lady," Misha admitted ruefully.  
"Seriously?" Jared eyed his friend suspiciously. "How come a little old lady got you that freaked out?"  
"Yeah well, she was all over me, like rushing up and grabbing me and she was all Oh you poor boy! i read all about what happened to you in the tribune and lord its such a miracle you're still here!"  
"Shit!" Jared breathed,  
!yeah pretty much and everyone one in the whole store was staring and i just mumbled at her and ran, I got upset because i don't want be the center of attention you know? God that this old lady, someone's Grandma knew that about me?"  
Jared nodded and gave a sympathetic smile, "little old ladies can be pretty deadly."  
"Don't mock my pain," Misha finally gave in and gave a weak grin back, "she was wearing an orange leisure suit!"

Misha allowed himself to be cheerful for Jared's sake as he had since Jared had returned from his vacation with Jensen. His friend had looked so much happier and more rested that Misha had vowed not to let his fried get sucked into Misha's sadness again as badly as he had before.

Although he was trying to joke about it Misha had been more deeply hurt by the incident than he let on, he knew now it would be so much harder for him to go out. The little grocery store had been one of the few places he had felt safe to visit. Now he knew he could not return there. too upset by the embarrassment and panic caused by one little old lady with blue hair and a loud voice.

 

*****************************

 

Jared watched his friend cautiously as he stood up and got sandwich fixings out of the fridge and began to prepare them a snack, he was obviously trying to downplay the incident but it was obvious how much it had upset him. Jared was amazed at how far Misha had come in the three months since his ordeal. Even though he was now physically fully healed the emotional and psychological trauma was obviously far longer reaching. Jared was particularly concerned over how his friend would cope once it was time to go back to school, the start of the new semester was only a few days away now, this year would be even more pressured than the last with student placements for their entire second semester.

As he watched Misha potter around their small kitchen Jared figured now was as good a time as any to broach the subject. "Jensen and I were going to head over to the School later, they've got early sign ups for some of the classes we wanted to take. Are you gonna come with?"  
"Jared, I already told you I more or less decided to take a year out." Misha didn't look up as he spoke.  
Jared spoke in the gentle, patient voice he so often used with Misha these days, the one that made Misha feel even more fucked up and useless than ever.  
"But Misha, this agoraphobia is only going to get worse if you don't come out, please dude, it would do you good to be back on campus."

Misha sighed as he got cans of soda from the fridge and put them on the table with a bag of chips. "How can I face them Jared, how can I look them in the eye when they know what happened to me? When they'll all be judging me or pitying me or thinking I'm broken."

"It wont be like that," Jared pleaded "I want you to come back, dude . . . I don't want you to be sat in here alone all day."  
Misha felt lost, he knew the sense of what Jared was saying but also knew that he was the only one who knew the way he was feeling. He knew his limits and he really didn't think he would be able to cope.  
"I'm deferring a year," he insisted. "I need to get over this before I can think about anything else. I'm too fucked up still, I can see it even if nobody else can. Misha was pleased that he'd managed to keep the edge of hysteria out of his voice. He plonked the sandwiches on the table but made no move to eat them.

Jared nodded slowly, "You had some totally fucked up shit happen to you, he agreed but . . . i dunno, cant you just do a minimum course load or something?" His hazel eyes were filled with compassion and Misha was so grateful then that he had Jared on his side. He missed his parents so badly at the moment, they had no family left now - just himself and Yuri but at least he had Jared and then others as well. They were his family now. Jared let his hand inch forward, gently clasping Misha's in his own. "I don't like to think of you shut away here all day, I don't think you should be alone."

Misha knew is some ways that his friend was right, "I'll think about it, Misha agreed finally, "but no promises, its just going to be weird going back." And he was afraid of what might happen if he ventured too far from the safe little niche he'd carved out for himself. Here at home he could function again, he could pretend he was normal, not damaged; he just didn't know if he was ready yet to move past that.

"And it'll only get weirder the longer you stay away." Oh God! Jared was breaking out the puppy dog eyes now, how was Misha supposed to argue against that?  
Jared hesitated, "I know you saw a therapist at the hospital for some breathing exercises and stuff to help you with the panic attacks but . . . there's a rape counselor at the campus health clinic. Had you thought about making an appointment?"

"Meaning you need to make an appointment and actually, I might have already made one for you." Misha drew in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled slowly, he had vowed he would always be honest with his friends but he still wanted to spare them the worst of what had happened to him. He was closer to Jared than most of his friends but this . . . well this was something two guys just shouldn't have to talk about and it was so hard.  
"I hadn't . . . hadn't thought about it actually. Sometimes . . . the rape seemed the least of what he did to me. But . . . yeah, yeah maybe I should go."

"Cool," Jared said softly. "You have an appointment tomorrow at ten." Misha smiled, he always had been able to read Jared like a book.  
"Misha, if I push you too hard or expect you to do stuff too fast . . . just tell me to back off okay? I guess we're all floundering here as to how best we can help you . . . I'm trying to do what's right."  
"Jared, you're an awesome best friend, man I don't think I would even be here if it weren't for you. You're being amazing and you're right. This is something i need to do and I would never have got motivated to go on my own."

Jared leaned over and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. "Okay then we're both awesome, can we eat now? Jensen's coming round in a bit and we're gonna kick his ass at Madden 12!"

 

**************************************

Jared and Jensen both came with him to the clinic and as they walked across campus, even though it was mostly still closed Misha felt like everyone was looking at him, and he was reinforced in his belief that he wasn't ready to come back yet. He was relieved when they got to the small clinic building, glad to be indoors once more. Jared hovered and in the end Misha sent him away, "I'm cool, now. You don't need to babysit me all the time. You guys go do whatever it is you want to do and I'll text you when I'm done here."

He didn't know what he expected from a rape counselor, hadn't actually given it much thought at all but the pretty girl with coppery ringlets almost to her waist and fierce grey eyes wasn't it.

"I'm Carrie," she introduced herself, "come on it."  
The tiny office was comfortable with two deep armchairs, a large box of tissues sat ont he table between them and there was a small drinks station on a table in the corner. As Misha sat carefully into one of the chairs Carrie went to get drinks. The kettle just boiled she stated cheerfully, I'm afraid I need my fix of caffeine to get through the day but we have decaff or herbal teas if you'd rather.  
no, coffee is fine. he said, looking round the office. it was painted in calming muted colors, a beautiful driftwood sculpture hung on one wall and a large picture of the sea on another.

When she brought the drinks over and sat down Misha had relaxed enough to sit back in his chair. They had been perfectly chosen, he thought by someone who knew what she was doing, by someone who'd been there. The chair curved round, supportively and was big enough for even him to curl up in. So often these days he sat with his knees pulled up and his arms clutched round them. He forced himself to be a little more open, to smile as he reached out for the drink but it still took so much effort to remember how to be normal.

"This is a safe space, Misha," she said softly. "We don't keep records of conversations or tape sessions, anything you say to me will stay in this room."  
he swallowed and nodded, "safe is good," he tried to smile.  
"I'm going to tell you a little bit about the service here so you can see if you think we can help you. If you're not clear on anything feel free to interrupt or ask questions. okay?"  
Misha nodded, oddly enough he felt closer to tears than he had done in weeks and he hadn't even started talking yet.

The girl in front of him was maybe a couple of years younger than he was, dressed casually in jeans and a gray school sweatshirt. A little silver cross made of interconnecting swirls hung on a chain round her neck. She grimaced as she drunk her coffee and then put the mug on the table.

"I don't know how much help I can be," she said honestly. "I feel like I need to apologize to you because we have no male counselor for you to speak to, if you find it hard to talk to me then you can see one of the other counselors here."  
"No, it's fine, you're fine." He found it easier to meet her eyes than he usually did with anyone these days. They were as grey as her sweatshirt and held an openness about them that he could relate to. He really did feel like he was safe to talk to her.

"okay then. Well, we talk about healing through our own pain here and I know what I went through can't compare to what happened to you. But I can try, I can give you someone to talk too, someone who understands just a little bit of what happened to you."  
"I don't think its something you should try to compare," Misha said quietly, "If someone hurt you deliberately and for their own pleasure then you know what it felt like for me."  
She gave him a genuine smile then, "Exactly, I feel that way too. I'm going to tell you what happened to me, it might make it easier for you to talk, do you think?"  
Misha nodded and suddenly realized that he was with an equal, that she wasn't talking to him like he was a victim or someone that needed to be coddled or looked after.

"I've always been a Christian, I wore a promise ring from when I was thirteen. by the time I was sixteen I had a boyfriend from my congregation, he was older than me but seemed happy when I said I wanted to wait. My parents liked him, he was fun to be with, we had a lovely summer together. Well, we'd been going out for about three months when my parents went away for the weekend. On the Thursday evening I went to our church youth group as usual and we hung out, drank fruit punch, played silly games. I started to feel dizzy and strange so he, Andrew, said he would walk me home."  
"Oh God, he drugged you didn't he?"

She nodded and her already pale skin was even whiter. "When I woke up I was locked in his bedroom and he was on top of me, he kept me there all weekend. My parents were horrified but he kept insisting it was consensual, that I’d asked to go back with him. The police said it was my word against his and there was not enough evidence to make a case. We had to move house in the end so I didn't have to see him at school or church."

"Oh God" Misha said again. His brain working overtime, she knew, she understood, she'd been there to, pinned beneath the unwanted weight of someone forcing himself on you, sick and dizzy from the drugs.  
"Sebastian drugged me too. That's how he took me and he . . . so much of what he did to me was all a fog at the beginning. I have flashbacks now, memories that suddenly come back of what he did to me while I was out of it. Sometimes I think that was worse than when I was fully awake."  
"Yes" Carrie sat forward "Exactly, at least when I was awake I could choose whether or not I switched off or tried to fight or chose to play along to make him get it over with."  
They sat there and looked at each other, Misha felt overwhelmed by the connection that he felt, that she understood so perfectly what he thought but hadn't been able to put into words.

"Look, I don't know if religion is your thing,"  
"I don't know either," Misha answered honestly "but I prayed a lot when I was there. I guess I like to believe someone is listening. When I was rescued I felt like it was an answer to my prayers."  
"I struggled for a long time because Andrew had professed to be a Christian but still did what he did. But there's a support group run by a local church that helped me a lot, I kind of run it now and maybe you'd like to come. You can still come and talk to me here of course but I think you'd like the other girls there."

Misha found himself agreeing, he loved his guys more than anything but the quiet connection he'd felt in this room today was like a lifeline to hold onto and he wanted more than anything to feel it again.

 

*************************************

Misha couldn't help but wonder what on earth he was doing, standing outside a church on a Friday evening. He hadn't even told his friends where he was going, afraid of their reaction. The good thing about living in the larger house was that they didn't hover over him so much; assuming that there was always someone else to look after him. As he was getting stronger he found being on his own easier to bear and he was actually starting to relish some time out.

He had come home from his session with Carrie feeling energized and a lot more positive, he felt like there really was hope for him to start moving forward.  
"Hi there, son. Can I help you?"  
Misha looked up from his reverie, startled by the presence of another man. The older guy didn't look threatening though, he had dark, salt and pepper hair and beard and a friendly smile, framed by a dark shirt and a dog collar.  
"I'm Father Jeff. This is usually a women's group tonight, I think maybe you've come to the wrong session?"  
Misha shook his head helplessly, he had thought there would only be Carrie and her friends there, he hadn't been prepared for this. "Sorry, sorry, I'll go." he muttered.  
"Son, it's okay, you're very welcome here." The man kept his voice low and gentle, obviously sensing how spooked Misha was. He peered at Misha more closely, "Do I know you?"  
"Misha Collins," he said softly. He knew his name would be enough, he had thought about changing it, going back to the Russian name his father had abandoned.  
Understanding dawned on the priests face.  
"Ah then you're very welcome. Come through this way, Carrie and the others will be pleased to see you."

Misha followed the man through into the church and out through a side door that led into a cozy meeting room. Misha hadn't known what to expect really, had had visions of a room full of tear stained girls sharing their sorrow. This was nothing like that. Carrie was sharing out mugs of coffee while a tall too thin girl was cutting homemade brownie into chunks. Three other girls were sat at a large table stuffing leaflets into envelopes.

Carrie's smile was warm as she looked up, "hey guys. Misha how do you like your coffee? Jeff, you can take yours in your office today while we do the introductions."  
She smiled but was firm and Jeff grinned, obviously delighted at being bossed around by this little slip of a thing. He took his coffee and cake and headed back the way they'd come, "Thanks, ladies. Nita, you been baking again? You know its not good for me." The tall girl gave a shy smile but didn't reply.

Once he'd gone Misha allowed Carrie to guide him to a chair, his heart was still hammering from the shock Father Jeff had given him but this room had the same quiet comfort of the Carrie's office and he was finding it soothing just to be here. "I think we're all here, Sarah couldn't make it tonight. So this is Misha," A gentle chorus of hellos greeted him and he couldn't help but smile back, they all seemed so genuine, so cozy here. It was hard really to believe they all had the same thing in common.

"Just to share the rules quickly, first rule of fight club?"  
"We don't talk about fight club!" They chorused cheerfully.  
"Exactly, what we discuss in this room stays here, you can be as personal as you like, share as much or as little as you're comfortable with, okay?" Misha nodded. "Now you guys have all heard my story so I won't share it again today. Who's gonna go first in introducing Misha to our club?"  
The tall girl gave him a tiny smile. She had long dark hair and was bundled in a coat that looked too warm for the weather. "Hi, I'm Nita, I was date raped in my first Semester at College." She swallowed, looking at her hands as she spoke rapidly in a voice so quiet Misha had to lean in to hear her. "I transferred back home because I couldn't handle it on my own. I'm mostly doing okay now but I developed Anorexia for a while and I still get a bit food obsessed when I'm struggling." Misha realized that she was the only person not eating the cake that she'd brought.

"hello Nita" Misha found it was easy to look her in the eye when he spoke to her, he suddenly understood that Carrie had known what she was doing when she invited him to come here, no one in this room was judging him on anything.

"I'm Mel," a stocky blonde girl with a crew cut and a silver nose ring grinned at him across the table. "I'm a lesbian, I was at a bar with my girlfriend and a bunch of rednecks decided to try and teach us what it was like to go with a real man. Said we were only dykes because we'd never tried dick before." Despite her matter of fact tone and her general air of bravado Misha could see she was trembling. The girl next to her squeezed her hand gently in support. He could see that even though they had obviously heard the story before all the girls were generating a supportive vibe and he suddenly knew it would be okay to talk to them. "My girlfriend . . . Sam . . . she struggled to come to terms with it and the Doctor put her on anti depressants. I came home one day from classes and she'd OD'd on them. Like Nita I transferred back here to be near home where I had more support."

"That's harsh," Misha said, "having to deal with her loss as well as what happened to you."  
"yeah," Mel nodded, "but these guys have helped tremendously, and Father Jeff has been amazing too."  
"You okay, Mel?" The brunette on her right squeezed her hand again and she nodded and gave a watery grin, Yeah, I am. It's over two years now, it's been a long journey but I really am doing okay." She looked up shyly, "I'm going on a date next week."  
The girls broke out in a round of applause, clapping and cheering and Mel laughed and ducked her head, her flaming pink cheeks making her eyes sparkle. "A girl in my Chem. class, she's asked me a couple of times and I finally gave in."

"You're all so brave," Misha said softly.  
"You are too, Misha, Mel said, smiling still. "you're here, you're one of us, that makes you incredibly brave too."

The brunette looked up at Misha. She looked like she expected him to challenge her at any moment. He could see she was quite a bit older than the rest of them.  
I'm Clodagh, I work in the library near here. I guess I'm coming to terms still with stuff I didn't admit to for a long time. I was abused by a family friend when I was a kid and its affected my life choices all the way along. My husband was a bully and a drunk. For a long time I didn't even realize what he did to me was rape. That I'd let him fuck me when he was drunk so he wouldn't beat me. Then after a while he'd fuck me even I f I said no and I realized that I had to get out. It's been tough being on my own but I guess I don't feel ready to trust anyone again yet."  
There was a murmur of sympathy and agreement from around the table. "We all have trust issues," Carrie commented and Misha nodded, "Yeah, I know that feeling."

"It's pretty weird for us having a guy here," Clodagh acknowledged. "You're the first one there's been while I've been coming here anyway."  
"I get that," Misha agreed, "I don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable but I was abused by a man too, I know how hard it is for you all." he gave a soft smile, "Hell, I was so freaked out by Father Jeff being here I nearly ran away."  
"Ah Jeff's just a pussycat," Mel grinned. "We all know we're safe with him."

"Last but not least, this is Genie, before you she was the newest member of our group. she's been coming to us for just a few weeks." Carrie introduced the girl who seemed to be the youngest member of the group. She sat curled into the corner of a big chair that made her look even tinier. She wore a big baggy jumper and when she sat forward Misha saw with a start that it was hiding a swollen belly.

"I was stupid," she said with a grin, resting her hand on the bump for a moment. "I'm sixteen, me and a couple of friends thought it would be cool to go to a frat party. We got wasted, drunk and stoned and I passed out in a bathroom. In the morning the guys were really nice, gave me breakfast and drove me home. It wasn't until a few weeks later when I got sick in the mornings that I started to suspect what had happened while I was out of it."

"But that's not your fault," Misha interjected, "I mean you were unconscious." She smiled wanly, obviously used to the response. "I shouldn't have put myself in that position. Anyway, that's what we're doing here tonight, sending out mailers to all the high schools telling my story, warning girls like me to stay with their friends and make sure they have a safe ride home at the end of the night.”  
"Oh," Misha nodded, "I guess that makes sense but still, I know college guys and I know what we can be like when we get drunk. But none of my friends would have taken advantage like that! I mean, whoever did this to you knew what he was doing was wrong. So it still doesn't make it your fault, okay?"  
She smiled, "okay, thanks, Misha. I guess maybe its a good thing to get a guys perspective on it."

"I guess that means I was stupid too," he smiled at her, then looked back at Carrie. "Do I need to tell you my story? I figure most of you know all about it anyway. Most people seem to."  
"Well not necessarily. Nita looked at her ragged nails while she spoke. "I mean we might know the headlines but I for one don't read papers anymore. I can't cope with knowing all the sadness there is out there."  
"Me either," Carrie agreed "besides which, what the newspapers found salacious or wanted to print might not be what mattered to you. Just share what you can okay?"  
"Okay." He thought for a moment, watched as little Genie kept busily stuffing envelopes, her hand stopping occasionally to rest on the swell of her belly. Nita biting her nails, the others drinking their coffee or helping Genie fold fliers.

"Well we all knew what it was like back in June, how all the guys were being so careful? I guess maybe its how you've always had to behave and I never realized it. I got too drunk and too stoned and left myself open to attack." Genie nodded her understanding, her eyes too old and wise for her years.

"There was so much happened and it was terrible, I don’t know where to start. I don't believe people can be born evil and I don't know what made him like he was but he enjoyed causing pain, he enjoyed hurting me." His breath hitched and Carrie squeezed his hand and it just felt nice, he didn‘t feel jumpy or have to force himself not to pull away. "I suppose it was the feeling that he owned me that was the worst, he pretty much made me do whatever he wanted and I was totally powerless to stop him."

"That's what it always comes down to in the end," Nita said softly.  
“yeah. I learned a lot about myself though, I was on my own for long periods of time and I hated it. I can’t tell you how bad it was sometimes, being alone and in pain and helpless. And after all that . . . all that he put me through, how much it hurt when he raped me . . . I was still so helpless that it made me go a little crazy once I was free. Because I was still weak and powerless and scared." He shrugged his shoulders, "I guess that’s it for now, I still can't cope with talking about the gory details, makes it all feel too real."

Carrie squeezed his hand again then jumped up to refill the kettle and Mel slid a pile of the fliers over the table towards him, "Okay, we're done with the dismal bit, Here you go. Do something useful!" And just like that Misha found himself laughing, watching as Nita cut herself a tiny sliver of cake and even joining in with resting a hand on Genie's belly when she started insisting that the baby was kicking.  
"I think it's too early! Clodagh said with a smile, "It’s probably just trapped wind!" but she put her hand there too.

"Why did you decide to keep it?" Misha asked. "Is it okay to ask that?"  
Yes, this is a safe space here, we can ask whatever we want. We can chose not to answer too of course. but its okay. When I found out I didn't know what to do, Father Jeff was one of the counselors at the summer bible camp I went to last year and he'd always been pretty cool so I called him. He came out to my home and helped me tell my mom and dad and we all talked about it together and it was my decision, they all agreed that. I went to my twelve week scan and the nurse said she was a healthy tiny girl and I knew she was a precious princess of God, that's what Father Jeff said at Camp. We're all precious princes and princesses of God; so I knew then I had to keep her." She looked up at him, her eyes too big for her little pixie face. "Sometimes I wish I’d had more respect for myself, if I'd remembered sooner that I was a precious princess of God then this wouldn't have happened."

He wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and hide her away somewhere safe, take her to a place where sixteen year olds could do all the stupid crap that normal teenagers did without it having to go so terribly wrong like this.

"You are all amazing," he said, watching the group, busy and laughing and if no one had heard the early conversation no one could guess what had brought them together.

At some point Father Jeff returned and joined in with sorting out the envelopes, adding a stamp to the top corner of each one. “Jeff gets the stamps from the church budget and lets us use the photocopier for free," Carrie explained. ",We beg borrow and steal paper and envelopes. We try to target awareness raising through schools and colleges but we also send copies of all our mailers to local and national politicians too."

Finally the mailers were all done and the girls were all getting ready to leave. Misha was shocked to see that over two hours had passed, it had been fun, working with the girls, laughing and chatting, teasing Mel about her date.

Carrie handed him a card with their names and numbers on, "its like a phone tree" she explained. "If you need to talk you call, it was Mel's idea, we do it because we don’t want anyone else ending up like her girlfriend. If you can’t cope just call, if some one calls you then you listen. You don’t have to add your number though until you feel up to it. "  
“No, I want to.” Misha realized that he felt better than he had in a long time. “It’s done me good to stop thinking about myself for a change.” He felt accepted and happy as one by one the girls pulled their cards from wallets and purses and he scribbled his cell phone number onto the bottom.

As they were leaving Father Jeff said goodbye to all of them, some of them hugged him, Genie stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, Nita just clasped his hand for a moment. After they’d gone he looked at Misha, "Are you in a hurry or do you want to come back to my place for a beer?" He held up his hands in a universal non-threatening gesture. "I’ve had an estrogen overdose all day, Fridays is all women’s groups. Just thought maybe you’d join me in a Thai takeout and chat."

"That sounds good actually. "Misha said with a slow smile, "the guys I share a house with will probably have gone out for the evening by now. I . . . I haven’t really been out in the evening before, is it okay if I book a taxi to go home?"  
"Sure," the priests smile was full of compassionate understanding, "text my address to your friends too, whatever you need to do to help you feel safe."

He did as Jeff suggested then stood by while the father turned out the lights and locked up the church, then followed him to the small house next door to the old building.


	7. Chapter 7

Hope is not like a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky.... hope is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency.

REBECCA SOLNIT, Hope in the Dark

 

Father Jeff didn’t seem to believe in talking for the sake of it but Misha didn’t feel the silence was uncomfortable. After the talking he’d been doing all evening he was quite content to sit with his bottle of Beer and peruse the menu for the take out. Jeff disappeared for a few minutes and when he returned he had changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. "Hope you don't mind me getting rid of the dog collar." he grinned, "it gets a bit uncomfortable after a long day like today."

Misha shrugged, "I guess it doesn’t make a difference really. you’re still you."  
"Exactly," Jeff grinned, "and you’re safe in my home, Misha. I’m so glad you felt safe enough to trust me."  
"I wouldn’t have done," Misha admitted, "except for the fact that the fight club do. And I guess if anyone’s going to have a good radar for that sort of stuff it’s them."  
"Indeed," Jeff agreed as he picked up the phone and placed the food order, "now we have fifteen minutes until it gets here. Shall we just drink in companionable silence or was there anything you want to ask me?”  
Misha gave a hesitant smile and looked at the faded tattoos on the man’s arms.  
"Were you military?" he asked,  
The priest nodded, "marines, fully operational although I was assigned as unit chaplain. I saw my fellow men commit so many atrocities against women I've spent the rest of my career atoning for them."  
"I think I might be gay." Misha shocked himself with the statement, he felt blindsided by the thought that had been playing around the edges of his subconscious for so long voicing itself like that.  
Father Jeff looked up, his blue eyes keen and alert but holding not a trace of judgment. "You weren't before the attack?"  
And Misha found himself shockingly relieved to have finally spoken it aloud. "I don't know," he admitted, "sorry, that came out of nowhere."

"I knew you had something you needed to talk about," Jeff said softly. "If we're going to work this out together I need you to answer a hard question for me."  
Misha nodded apprehensively.  
Now, I know the outline of what happened to you and I'm not trying to belittle it in anyway okay?"  
"Yes," Misha breathed his voice unconsciously reverting to the tiny murmur from right after his attack.  
"Are you afraid you're gay because at some point you got pleasure from what happened or was it something you'd wondered about before?"  
Misha took a long drink from his bottle of beer. "both," he admitted in an almost silent whisper.  
Jeff nodded his understanding. "Okay. So we have two separate issues to deal with then. First off you need to listen to me very carefully. The human body is an amazing thing and intricately and marvelously made. So when Sebastian coerced you into cooperating with him or however it happened, you were no more able to prevent it than young Genie. Your body was forced to take pleasure just as hers was forced to conceive. Yeah? That would have happened whether you were gay or straight or whatever."  
"Yeah," Misha nodded, he hadn't expected a priest of all people to be so open and non-judgmental, he struggled to suppress the lump in his throat that was threatening to choke him. He had berated himself silently for so long about the way he had responded to Sebastian, it had never really occurred to him before that it was something involuntary, the way Sebastian had forced him to take pleasure in his own rape.

"But you also wondered before?"  
Misha cleared his throat, he tried to make himself speak normally, he knew his throat wasn't damaged anymore, he really had no reason to still be speaking in whispers.  
"I had sex with a man before, with my best friend." He admitted, he felt better suddenly for talking, freer somehow. "And before that, when I was on my gap year was working as a Doctor's aide and I fooled around a bit with one of the other guys on the team."  
"So this was definitely an issue for you beforehand then." The priests voice was still gentle and calm and Misha could see that the man was astutely leading him down the path to come to his own realization.  
"yeah, I had a few girlfriends over the years but it was like my heart wasn't really in it. I've never been able to sustain a long relationship before . . . I have a twin brother and he has an amazing girlfriend, they've been together for years. I think I always just wanted to be like him. But I wasn't, I was always different wasn't I?"

"I've managed to refrain from quoting scripture all night but here's a verse to think about while I fetch our supper which I believe is just at the door. It's from psalms and David is talking to God. You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. . .My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

Misha thought about the priests words as the doorbell rang and he went off to pay for their food. He felt a sense of lightness, relief even and he couldn't help but grin as Jeff returned.  
"If you want to talk further Mel might be a good person to call. She's had a lot of issues with her sexuality. Especially after what happened to her."  
Misha nodded, piling his plate high, he felt hungrier than he had done in months.  
"Maybe later," he said, "but I think it's actually pretty clear now."

 

*******************************

Misha felt almost high as he paid off the taxi and headed into the house, far more so than could be accounted for by a couple of beers. The conversation with Father Jeff had made him feel lighter, as though a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He could see from the fact that all the lights were on that most of the others were home. He tried to shut the door quietly but as soon as he entered the hall Jared and Chad appeared, they'd obviously been waiting up for him.

"Hi Mom, hi Pop!" he teased and was gladdened to see their smiles in return.  
"Hi yourself, I was just starting to worry about you," Jared confessed.  
"I wasn't!" Chad added cheerfully, "but I'm damned nosy and I need to know where you snuck off to!"  
"I texted you both the address," Misha pointed out.  
"Yeah," Chad agreed amiably "but not where or who or why!"  
Well, 'where' was St James church, 'who' was some people I got put in touch with through the rape counselor and the priest father Jeff. 'Why' is harder to answer, they call it Fight Club and the first rule of fight club is . . . "  
Yeah, yeah. You don't talk about fight club.” Jared laughed, “well, man I'm glad to see you back and whatever it was you were up to you look good on it. Now I'm going to bed, I have my gorgeous boyfriend waiting for me and he'll fall asleep if I don't hurry up."  
Chad groaned, "Go on quickly and try and get it over with before I go to bed." He yawned dramatically, "The noise of banging bedposts kept me awake all night last night!"  
Jared smacked him across the back of the head as he passed, "Yeah" Yeah! You dream about having it as good as us. Plus which your bed room isn't anywhere near ours so it must have been Chris's sexploits you heard."  
With that he left quickly leaving Chad pulling a face of mock disgust.

Misha watched Jared go with a fond smile before turning back to his younger friend. "So have you got someone waiting for you too or do you want to make popcorn and watch a movie? I wanna watch something where they blow shit up!"  
"Really? Chad looked at him in amusement. "Not going to jump into my arms if the bangs get too loud?"  
"Dude, you wish!" Misha grinned, he loved that he was feeling his old self returning, it was giving him a bigger rush than any drink or drugs ever could.  
“So where were you really?” Chad asked seriously. “I mean Jared’s right, you look really good but . . . you’re not doing anything dangerous are you?”  
Misha couldn’t help but throw back his head and laugh at the thought of tiny Genie or the waif like Nita being dangerous. “No, dude, really no. It’s a support group run by the local priest. We didn’t do anything more lethal than Chocolate Brownies and we mostly just talked. It felt good not to be broken and needy. They made me feel strong, like I have a future.”  
“Cool, I mean, it’s not like we haven’t been telling you that for months but I guess some things you just have to work out for yourself.”  
Misha looked at him, Chad was a safe a person as any to share his other personal revelation with. “I figured something else out too, I’m gay.”  
“Yeah and?”  
Misha punched him on the shoulder. “You were supposed to be surprised! I was surprised!”  
Chad laughed at the look on his face, “Mish, you spent most of the first year jumping into bed with Jared at any given opportunity!”  
“We didn’t do it that often,” Misha denied.  
“Dude, you really did. Plus when that Dani chick was hanging round you that time and she wanted to stay over? You let her sleep in your bed then came and got in with me! Any pretensions you had towards being straight pretty much went out the window for the rest of us then.”  
Oh! Misha smiled wide and happy. “Why did no one think to tell me sooner?”  
“Would you have believed us if we had? Come on, bring your big gay ass in here, the popcorn's done, Lets Die Hard with a vengeance and if we’re still awake we can Terminator Two.  
Those movies are so old!” Misha groused.  
Not old, Chad countered, They’re classics!

They bickered back and forth trying to decide which film to select and were still arguing a few minutes later when Alex, Chris and Steve returned and joined them. It was the first gig that Alex had joined them for, and they were talking noisily at first about the set they’d played and how awesome it was. Alex was obviously pleased with himself and Chris and Steve were already planning their next set list, arguing over which songs to include.

Eventually Steve and Chris flung themselves into the large armchairs and Alex wedged himself in next to Misha. Chad took advantage of the fact that Misha was distracted by their friends to put Terminator two on anyway and somehow, in between throwing popcorn at Chris to make him shut up and leaning over Chad to grab a soda Misha suddenly realized that this was what had been missing. It was happy and relaxed and he finally felt like he was home again.

***********************************

“You’re not a victim, brah, you’re a survivor.”  
Misha looked at him in surprise, Although Alex was one of their group he wasn’t the sort to talk at the best of times. as it was Misha didn't think that he’d had a proper conversation with the man since he’d come home from the hospital.  
“That’s the kind of stuff they say at fight club," Misha said with a wry smile.  
“Doesn’t mean it’s wrong though does it?"  
Misha thought for a few moments considering it in his head, “No, and I look at those women and they all have so much to cope with it seems like its true about them. I just don't always feel like it applies to me."  
And again Alex left one of those long silences that meant he was considering every word that Misha had said. It was slightly surreal actually, to feel all of Alex's attention focused on him like this. The dark eyes studying him thoughtfully.

“Take your shirt off?" Again Alex’s words startled Misha but he knew that Alex was safe, that he wasn’t going to stare or make fun of the scars that Misha always tried so hard to hide. Slowly he unbuttoned the long sleeved top he always wore, finally peeling it off to reveal the wife beater he wore underneath.

Misha stood still, letting the other man see him. Only Jared and Yuri had seen his scars properly up until now. He couldn't stop himself from trembling as Alex reached out his hands. “I’m going to touch you, okay, brah?"  
Misha nodded, his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding but he kept reassuring himself that Alex was safe.

Slowly, calmly, Alex placed his hands on Misha’s shoulders and let them rest there for a long moment as Misha got used to the weight and the feel of being touched again. He stroked down Misha's biceps, his big hand's resting over each cluster of scars and Misha felt like his skin was burning in the wake of Alex’s fingers. But it was a good burn, cleansing and healing. He couldn't help but stare in fascination at the contrast between Alex's dark warm skin and his own pale scared flesh as Alex finally let Misha's hands go.

“Brah, he marked you and you can’t do anything about that but you can reclaim your body for yourself.”  
“I can?" Misha looked up into his friend’s face, he had never said how he felt about his skin, just kept it hidden so that he and anyone else, wouldn't have to lock at it.  
“Yeah," Alex's voice was calm and steady. "For a start stop hiding yourself, be proud of what your scars mean; they mean you're strong, that you fought a hard battle and won.”  
Misha nodded hesitantly, "I can try," he offered. "What else?"  
"And then you can come with me and get some ink. My artist is awesome. I asked him and he's happy to work with scars, only the very best are competent to do that."  
Alex grinned cheerfully, he was so proud of his newest tattoo, a huge tribal design that spanned most of his back that he still took his shirt off at every possible opportunity.  
Misha couldn't help but laugh at Alex's enthusiasm but actually he figured it was a pretty good idea. He loved to see Alex's tat's, even Chad's more subtle tribal stamp was pretty neat.  
"You know that would actually be really cool, Misha said with a grin. How soon can he fit us in?”

 

*******************

 

At fight club on Friday he got there first so he filled the kettle and set out the mugs. He'd brought hot chocolate for them that night, figuring that Genie shouldn't be drinking so much coffee and he was always teasing Carrie about pushing her Caffeine addiction onto the rest of them. He chatted happily to Father Jeff as he worked, the man had rapidly become a firm friend as well as something of a mentor. When the girls got there he was buzzing with excitement to show off his new tattoo.

He’d shared the quote Morgan told him with the group and they’d all appreciated the metaphor. They all incorporated it into their group language so that ‘flying’ became their word for doing something that took that extra bit of courage.

They all understood the significance then when he showed them his arm, the dark ink beautifully shaded on his bicep, incorporating the scars into the design. A pair of spread wings, like angel wings with the word survivor in curled script underneath.

They all ooohed and aaahed quite satisfactorily before getting down to the evening’s business. They wanted to set up a crisis helpline, it was all very well them being there to support each other but Carrie wanted to take it further. She had been particularly concerned on Misha’s behalf that there hadn’t been anyone trained to talk to him when he’d needed it. They discussed the idea back and forth for a while and all agreed that it was a brilliant idea in principle but that it all came down to funding in the end. For the time being it just wasn’t available, they could go back to their standard practice of alerting Politicians and the media of the need for the service but at the moment there was nothing else they could do.

Misha was actually more concerned about Genie. The young girl was looking pale and exhausted, she’d lost some of the natural sparkle she’d had the first time he'd met her and Misha couldn’t help noticing that she was still wearing the same baggy sweater she’d worn to that first meeting. As soon as Carrie got up to make more drinks Misha slid himself round the table so that he was sitting next to the teenager. She still brought all his most protective instincts to the fore and he hated to see her looking so dejected.

“How are you doing, Genie?” he asked and to his dismay tears began to slide down her cheeks. “Oh Sweetheart, what's the matter?” And even as the endearment slipped from his lips he was able to banish the image of Seb by focusing on the distressed young girl in front of him and he grabbed a napkin from the table to lean in and gently wipe the tears away.  
“It’s been pretty grim at home this week," she volunteered. "I think my Dad’s left for good this time. He's taken all his stuff and i think he has a new girlfriend.”  
“That's really tough,” he sympathized. Why did it have to be like this? he wondered, why did the crap pile up and keep on piling on people who just didn‘t deserve it.

“Yeah, my mom is kind of glad to be rid of him, I think, but it’s going to be tough for her to support me and the baby. I'm afraid she’s regretting saying I could keep her.”  
He took her tiny hand in his, “If there is anything I can do to help I will," he promised.  
“I wish you weren’t gay, you could marry me and we could raise her together." She gave him a watery smile that held a wistful quality to it, still just a child who'd been raised on fairy tales and longed for a handsome prince to rescue her.  
“Babe, I’m nearly ten years older than you!" he teased softly. "But the precious princess can have a fairy godfather, yeah? Maybe we could go shopping tomorrow. Me and my friend can make you be a princess for the day. We’ll take you out to lunch and get some bits ready for the baby and get you some proper maternity stuff.”  
“You don’t have to do that,” she shook her head but he could see a tiny light had come back into her eyes, hope he thought. We all need something to hope for.  
“You’ll be doing me a favor," he smiled, "please? I haven’t been to the mall since before and I need someone like you to drag me out in public again, please say yes.”

She laughed a little at his pleading and he was pleased to see the smile properly back on her face. He realized that Father Jeff had been watching the exchange, the priest didn't seem to miss much that went on actually and the older man gave him a smile and a little nod of approval.

 

*****************************

“Don’t make me move again!” Chad said dramatically as he threw himself on the couch, when they got back from their day at the mall. Jared laughed at him, “It's easy to see you don’t have sisters!” He and Jensen had met up with them to have coffee and cakes before Chad and Misha headed off with Genie. The main idea with that had been to make sure Misha would be able to cope in the busy mall. Actually it had proved to have the added bonus of the fact that Jared and Jensen both had younger sisters and were quickly able to put the sixteen year old at ease.

Misha had got so used to being around her that her rapidly swelling belly didn’t bother him but his friends were clearly shocked, all went into overprotective mode and he could tell they were thinking about their own sisters. Before they went both guys gave her money, Jared saying "buy something nice for the baby" while Jensen tried to outdo him saying "screw that! buy something nice for yourself." She’d laughed a bemused little laugh as they walked off hand in hand but had merely said, "You have nice friends." before they headed to the nearest baby store.

The girl had tried to be careful at first, picking budget brands and small packs but Chad and Misha had started to get carried away, finding tiny pink layettes and cooing over the little socks. As Misha put the fourth cute outfit into their basket and Genie had added matching shoes Chad had rushed up holding a huge pink velveteen bunny.  
"Oh my God, dude! I think it’s catching! Chad had pulled an expression of mock horror, "I think I’m gay too."  
"Genie, can the PPG stand having two gay dads?" Misha had asked with mock seriousness and Genie had giggled at them both, hiding behind a rack of clothes and pretending she wasn’t with them.

She'd pulled faces over the selection of maternity wear but had finally found some things she liked before Chad insisted on a trip to Lush to stock up on treats for her. As Misha caught him picking out pink bath bombs for himself he'd cracked up all over again. "Dude, you are so gay!" and then they'd headed to another baby store where Misha ordered a crib to be delivered and Genie had picked out little blankets and sheets with pink bunnies on to match the toy Chad had insisted on buying.

By the time they’d kitted out the teenager to their satisfaction she was obviously beginning to flag so they’d taken her for lunch. She had chatted away about various things, obviously enjoying being spoiled and had then evidently decided that Chad was enough of a friend to share some of her story with. He’s listened attentively and had given a similar response to Misha’s. That even if she had behaved thoughtlessly she wasn’t responsible for her condition and she graced him with a sweet smile and a brief squeeze of his hand.  
Misha has good friends, She said looking up at him, the hero worship evident in her eyes. "That's why he’s been able to get so strong so quickly," and Misha had agreed.

It had been a good day all in all, Misha had made it through going out without having a panic attack and Chad had carried out his chaperoning duty without behaving like a douche for the entire day. Misha had learned how to read his friend though and despite the front that Chad was putting on Misha knew something was bugging him.

He waited until there were just the four of them sat in the living room and then brought the subject up. Since Misha's rocky start to his recovery they’d all learnt quickly that any issues between them needed to be shared and dealt with fast. For a house full of guys they’d all got pretty good at talking about their feelings.

"Come on Chad man, what’s the problem?"  
Chad wrinkled his nose. "I’m kind of disgusted at the whole male species at the moment." He admitted, "myself included."  
"Yeah? What’s brought that about?" Misha coaxed, trying to get his friend to open up.  
"She was just a little kid," Jared interjected, "I mean I know you cant tell us what happened to her, but for a child like that to be knocked up and going to a rape support group something has to be really wrong."  
Jensen nodded his agreement, "I keep thinking of Mac," he admitted "I had to call her this afternoon to check she was okay."  
"It’s more than that though," Chad shook his head, "Mish can I tell them?"  
Misha said, "I guess, she didn't swear you to secrecy or anything. It’s not like they’re gonna spread it around."  
"Okay, well it's like . . ." he stopped and put his head in his hands and squeezed his temples and Misha put his arm round his friend’s shoulders, it was surprisingly easy to let himself touch people these days, like he was in empathy overdrive or something.

Right, well for me what happened to you was worse because Roche was a teacher, yeah? They're supposed to look out for students, help them not . . . take advantage.” There was a guilty flush to Chad's face and Misha knew he was remembering what had happened between himself and Roche too. They'd let Jared and Jensen have the couch and were each seated in an armchair but now Misha moved to perch on the arm of Chad's chair, leaning into him a little and squeezing his shoulder so Chad knew that Misha got it, that he remembered and understood.  
“I know, Jensen agreed, his green eyes serious, "I felt that too. Like we didn’t even consider him at first, even though we knew he was interested in you at the party purely because of his job.”

“Yeah, okay so genie yeah? How did you feel when we were with her today?" Chad asked and Misha sort of knew where his friend was going with this but he played along. “I guess I feel like I’m her big brother, I mean I’ve never had to be one before but I want to look out for her, put the smile back on her face. last night when she was so scared and miserable it broke my heart.”  
What he said Jared grinned his agreement, Like Jen said before made me feel all protective and like I wanted to punch someone and check my little sister was okay all at the same time.”

“Right, so basically we’re all saying because we’re . . . what? nine, ten years older than her we all feel protective, like we should look after her, yeah?"  
They all nodded their agreement. Chad looked up helplessly, "So why didn’t we? She was raped at a frat party, thought she was being all grown up and clever by pretending to be old enough to be there and drink and some asshole took advantage of her and she didn't even know.”

The anguish in his voice was plain and he looked at Jared and Jensen who were sitting staring at him the shock on their faces obvious. “We’ve all been at those parties, he went on, we’ve all seen those girls, drunk off their asses in a bedroom or passed out on the bathroom floor. Why didn’t we take them home or get them somewhere safe?”

Jensen shook his head softly, “fuck, he breathed, I never thought of it like that.2  
Me either, Chad admitted but when that little scrap of a thing sat there looking like a little kid, acting like we were some big damn heroes and eating her ice cream sundae for dessert and I just couldn’t stop thinking it. What if I was at that party? I went to a hell of a lot of them so it's possible. Hell, what if I left her in that bathroom? What if she was one of the ones I just stepped over and ignored? That would make me as responsible for what happened to her as if I was the one that raped her.”

There was silence as they all considered Chad’s words.  
Hell, Jared said finally I need to call my sister again.  
Yeah, if I had a sister I’d call her too, Misha said, Genie’s so . . . I don’t know how she can be so together about it all really, like she came out with us today without a second thought. I was watching her while we had coffee this morning and she was chatting away so happily and I’m thinking how the hell can she even bare to be around college guys again?  
She’s brave, are all the girls in the that group like that? Jensen looked at Misha.  
“we call it fight Club for a reason, he grinned and yeah, they’re all amazing. Some of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And none of them sit round having pity parties or moaning about what they have to deal with. They all . . . we all try to put our energy into helping other people. Genie is trying to get her story out to every high school in the country to teach other girls how to be safe.”

Chad shook his head, "its not right, though. Hell, I’ve passed out in enough bathrooms in my time without having to worry about what might happen to me!"  
Misha grinned at him fondly, he loved to see how his friend was growing up, becoming so much more thoughtful and considerate. “Dude, if you wake up pregnant one morning I’ll stand by you. Hell, I’ll even be your baby daddy if you want me too!”  
the other guys laughed as the tension was broken but Misha could see they were all deeply shaken by what Chad had raised with them. He figured That Mac and Megan were going to have to put up with over protective big brothers making lots of extra phone calls for a while.

 

****************************

 

Unable to sleep Misha wrapped himself in his quilt and wandered out to see if anyone’s light was still on, if there was anyone he could go and sit with. If not he’d go and watch TV for a while. He was working hard to get his sleep patterns more normal again but he’d been for a run with Alex in the morning and hadn’t been able to stay awake after lunch which explained his sleeplessness now.

The light was on in the kitchen and he was pleased to see Chad in there making toast. Chad slathered on the butter and held out a piece to Misha who took it and started munching as Chad put more bread into the toaster.  
“You okay, dude?”  
Sure, just couldn’t sleep is all, Misha reassured.  
"Cool," Chad smiled lazily. At the moment Misha figured everything to Chad was cool as long as Misha was okay. It gave him a good feeling actually to know his friend cared that deeply about him.

When Chad had made enough toast to feed a small army Misha followed him into his bedroom. The room was one of the largest in the house, Chad always seemed to end up with the best room in whichever house they were in. They sat cross-legged on the bed while they ate, listening to random songs from Chad’s I-pod, arguing softly over who was the greatest modern rock hero Michael Hutchens or Kurt Cobain? It was a level of comfortable Misha hadn’t felt with anyone since before Jared had got so involved with Jensen and when Chad leaned in to wipe a smear of butter from the corner of his mouth somehow Misha was expecting it. Even when his friend let his hand rest against Misha’s face for a moment longer than was necessary it just felt comfortable and right.

Misha swayed a little into the touch, he was suddenly aware of all the nerve endings in his body crackling with static. Chad leaned in, letting his lips press to the corner of Misha’s mouth where his finger had just been. Just as Misha got his brain in gear enough to respond Chad pulled away, "Shit, man I'm so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I oh fuck!"  
Misha put a finger to Chad’s lips, "Shh it’s okay, really man. I . . . I think I want to, yeah?" Chad was breathing too hard, too fast and the flush in his cheeks as he gazed at Misha was making him look absurdly adorable. "I want my body all the way back, help me make new memories. You’re my friend man, I trust you like no one else, I want this." he asserted. Chad looked at him as though he was trying to read Misha’s eyes. He still seemed to stunned to speak.

"Don’t over think this," Misha said softly, "We’ve been building up to this since we first met, yeah?"  
And Chad finally breathed "yeah" but he sat so still, longing and need and a sort of quiet desperation etched into is face. Misha wasn’t sure if he wad in shock or just afraid of how to progress without spooking Misha.

In the end Misha took matters into his own hands, surging forward until he was practically sitting in Chad’s lap, bringing his hands up to frame Chad’s face and kissing him, gently at first but then with growing urgency. It didn't take long for Chad to get with the program, responding to Misha’s mouth, kissing him back before moving back to mouth at Misha’s jaw and neck.

And fuck but that felt good, Misha was hard already but he could feel his cock jolt with every wet pull at his neck. Chad was trying so hard to be tender and considerate but Misha was doing his damnedest to make Chad come undone, he wanted to see his best friend unravel.

“Tell me something he didn’t do with you," Chad gasped as he pulled a way for a moment, "I want something just for us. For you, tell me what to do for you." And that was hotter than it had any right to be, Chad looking so disheveled and his mouth all kiss swollen and full. And Misha found himself leaking at the thought of that mouth on him, and he fell back on the bed, scrabbling at his jeans, “Take your clothes off?” he asked and Chad was so quick to respond, and he was so beautiful, lean and toned in the dim glow of the study lamp on the desk.

It didn’t feel real for a moment as Misha lay there, he considered leaving his shirt on, not wanting to turn Chad off with his scars but that felt dishonest somehow so he peeled it off over his head. He was hesitant as he looked for his friends reaction but Chad didn’t even seem to notice, slotting himself in beside Misha so that Misha could still control the situation if he wanted to. Chad let his hand rest warm and soft on Misha's hip. “Misha, you're safe with me, okay? I'm never going to try and hold you down or do anything to hurt you. You have to be in control of this because I'd never forgive myself if I did anything to freak you out or hurt you, even by accident."

"Jesus, Chad, you’re . . . ah fuck!" he shivered as he felt Chad’s cock graze his thigh and reached out to grasp it gently, smiling as Chad swore. He let his fingers feel the silken weight of it, stroking and then flicking his thumb over the head just to watch Chad shudder and arch into the touch. It made his head spin, dizzy with lust and longing and so many emotions crowding through him. "Face to face, yeah? He never did that."

Then suddenly Chad’s hand was on Misha's cock and he didn’t want to think anymore, feather light touches that promised so much more to come. And Chad was sliding down his body and his mouth, "fuck, yeah!" his mouth on Misha’s cock and as Chad sucked him down Misha could feel his eyes rolling back in his head. "Oh, fuck, man!" he breathed, "that! never had that from any dude before." And Chad moaned in agreement or encouragement as Misha bucked into the welcoming heat of his friend's mouth.

He hadn’t so much as touched himself since his ordeal so there was no way this was going to last, he didn't even try, just gave himself up to the sensation and trusted his friend to take care of him. Chad was moaning around his cock like it was the best thing he’d ever done and that was enough to send crackles of electricity down Misha’s spine. "Fuck yeah," he encouraged, incapable of proper speech, letting his fingers tangle in Chad’s hair. He could feel Chad's cock hard against his leg, hot and leaking as his friend continued trying to short circuit his brain.

He suddenly felt overwhelmed by the need to see Chad’s face and hauled him back up the bed. Chad was grinning, his eyes happy and his spit slick mouth so hot and inviting that Misha couldn’t help but drag him in for another kiss that left him breathless. He could taste himself on Chad's tongue and Chad seemed just so damned happy that it made Misha feel like he was brimming over with joy, he could feel tears brimming up in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks and Chad looked at him in concern, "Its okay, I’m happy, I'm just so fucking happy," he reassured.

Chad chased the tears away, kissing ,Misha's eyelids and then finally bringing his hand down to Misha's cock one more. trying to wrap his hand round both their cocks at once. Misha needed this to be about both of them so he put his hand down there too, holding on but letting Chad set the pace. He buried his face in Chad's neck and just breathed, inhaling the scent of Chad that was hot and sweet and so very familiar. He gasped as he pressed closer in, it felt so good, so clean, like Chad was taking over his whole body and giving it back to him as something new and special.

His hips were bucking up in encouragement and he was going to come, he was so close, so dammed close and then he could feel the heat as Chad began to pulse. His own hips jerking and his cock throbbing where it was pressed against Misha's and that was enough to send Misha over the edge. He was helplessly gasping into Chad’s neck, and he could feel that he was till crying, tears rolling down him face but Chad was still there, still holding him and kissing them away.  
Chad laughed suddenly, Damn! Toast’s gone cold!”

And Misha laughed with him, and somehow he couldn’t stop, just lay there laughing helplessly as Chad watched him fondly then joined in. within minutes they were both practically hysterical when Christian banged on the wall yelling at them to both shut up before he banged their heads together. That set them off all over again.

Finally Chad sat up, "You okay, dude?"  
"Yeah, actually I really am, better than I've been in a long, long time." Misha felt like a knot inside him had been untied, he stretched languorously, still feeling boneless and content.  
"Cool." Chad said,. looking at him seriously. "Misha, I . . ."  
"Don't make this more than it is, please? I couldn't cope with anything more at the moment." Misha warned.  
"I'm not, I swear." Chad lay down again and bumped shoulders against Misha until he was lying close beside him. "It's just . . . I was going to say thank you, actually. Ans before you starting taking the piss, I don't mean for the sex!" He reached down and took Misha's hand. "It might sound weird but these past few months . . . well, I feel like its been kind of a privilege that you let me come on this journey with you."

"Wow, that's pretty deep," Misha rolled over and pressed a kiss to his friend's temple.  
"I just . . . when I think back to the party that night, what I was like, how I used to behave . . . well i guess I grew up, that's all."  
Misha suddenly realized he hadn't seen his friend smoke or even drink anything stronger than a few beers for weeks. He thought of the voyage of self discovery Chad had been on too, the realizations he'd come to after making friends with Genie.  
"yes, yes you did." He smiled softly at his friend. "Chad Michael-Murray all grown up, whoever would have thought it?"  
"so, on a scale of one to ten, who's better me or Jay?"

When he finally stopped laughing again to the background of more wall banging from Chris, Misha looked at his friend happily. "I'm glad you didn't grow all the way up, no one makes me laugh like you do."

 

****************************

 

Misha had struggled through a few weeks of reduced course load but he knew he wasn't coping. Despite the vast steps forward he'd made he still didn't have the concentration for the work that was needed, let alone the focus to be able to do the levels of research and study that was needed at home. Eventually after talking it over with both Derek and Father Jeff he'd deferred for a year. He still didn't know if he would be able to do it then but it bought him some time while he figured what to do next.

Initially he was at a loss as to what to do with his time but Jeff had stressed the need to keep structure in his life so he gave himself a loose timetable. He tried to go for a short run most day. That had been Alex's suggestion but he found he really enjoyed it. Often Alex or one of the others went with him although he knew he didn't really go as far as they like too. He still suffered with his lungs and often needed to use an inhaler if he pushed himself too hard. The Doctors didn't know if this was a permanent lung damage caused by what Sebastian had done to him or was just a left over from the pneumonia, for the time being they were just monitoring his to see how it played out.

He had taken to cooking for the entire house a few times a week, persuading the guys to give him their food money and making vast pots of chilli or pasta, graduating to more complicated pot roasts and gumbo. He had even started to make cakes, under Nita's quiet guidance and with the help of her recipes he'd learnt to make the chocolate brownies and pecan slices almost as well as she did.

He also did a lot of work for the Fight Club, trying to take some of the load off Carrie's shoulders by getting things copied as well as researching grants and writing off for funding.

It still left him with a lot of time on his hands and after three weeks of home the loneliness was driving him a little crazy. He brought it up at fight club to see if the girls or Jeff had any suggestions. Jeff grinned as he drunk his hot chocolate, although he'd been the one to grumble most about Caffeine withdrawal he still seemed to put away mug-full's of it.

"Well, actually yes. I do have a solution." Jeff said in his gentle rumble.  
"yeah?" Misha looked at him expectantly.  
"Yeah, i know this kid who has to be out of school for a while, she needs tutoring a couple of hours a day so she doesn't drop too far behind."  
Misha mulled it over, maybe it was as good a way as an to spend his time and if Jeff thought it needed doing he knew he would be somewhere safe . . .

Carrie was chuckling at him and Misha couldn't for the life of him work out what was so funny, even the other girls were smiling. It was Genie's look of wide eyed hopefulness that finally clued him in and he laughed at himself. "Very funny! how long have you guys been cooking this up for?"  
"Not long actually," Jeff said, Genie was hoping to stay in school until the baby was due but . . ."  
"They're trying to force her to go to the unit for preggo teens and that's right across town." Carrie finished.  
"Please Misha?" genie's voice was a breathy little whisper. She was looking a lot better these days but Misha was actually glad of the chance to be able to spend more time with her, to look after her properly as her due date came near.  
"I reckon that could be fun, huh kiddo? We'll make sure you get some proper work done but we can have fun too then, I cant think of anyone I'd rather hang out with. When do we start?"

 

******************************

 

Dear Mr Collins,

Misha. I hope you don’t mind me calling you that, we have so much more in common than you might realize. Please read this letter in full, when you find out who I am you may not want to but for both our sakes it is important that you do. My name is Andre Roche, my father and Sebastian's were brothers. He was six years older than me and for a brief time we were at school together.

During that time he used me in the most terrible ways you can imagine, you are probably the only person who can imagine because I'm sure you too were subject to his creative imagination. I still bare a scar on my shoulder where he . . . well, you know. Even after all this time I cannot bring myself to write it. He would open the same wound over and over again, held in check I believe, only by his fear of getting caught. I was eleven years old and he was supposed to be looking after me, showing me what school was like. He was so popular and well liked, only I ever saw what went on behind the mask.

As far as I know we are his only two surviving victims - an elite club we would I'm sure, have given anything not to be a part of. Which brings me to why I am writing to you. As Sebastian's closest surviving relative all his money was left to me and that has left me with something of a dilemma. I have considered the issue from every angle and discussed it over and over again with my wife. Simply put I do not want this money, I am comfortably off so it would make little difference to me financially. Further than that though, I feel it is tainted so very deeply both by coming from Sebastian and before him, our grandfather.

Our Grandfather was a harsh and distant man, I have very few memories of him because I grew up in England and he lived in France, he died not long after I was first sent to school. Sebastian talked about him often and I believe he was at least partially responsible for the way Sebastian turned out. He had beaten and punished Sebastian for every little thing real and imagined that he had done, it doesn't make me forgive him but it does shed light on why he was the way he was. This alternated between Sebastian being spoiled and over indulged by his mother and the family servants.

He was devastated at being sent away to school but soon learned to project the charming facade that made him fit in. He also told me about his first mentor at school, an older boy who took Seb's hero worship and twisted into something darkly sexual. So I suppose in many ways he was a victim too.

I'm sure this is as hard for you to read as it is for me to write. I grew up, i hope to be a good man despite what Sebastian did to me. I am married now and a father with two young sons and i shudder at the thought of anyone hurting them as we were hurt. I looked you up on Google, just to see if there was any indication of what sort of man you are and other than the obvious the only links I found were to the work you do with group for supporting rape survivors. That gives me hope that you are going to be able to grow past what he did to you and maybe the money will be able to help you in your work.

So I am sending you his money, keep it for yourself, give it away too or use it for your charity. Use it to go on a cruise or buy a house or do something worthy. Something tells me that you are the one to make a difference, to use it for good. Perhaps it is cowardly on my part to hand this responsibility over to you but I feel like it is holding me in a place I don't want to be. My wife is in total agreement with me and I only hope you can forgive me for passing the burden over to you.

I am hoping to come to the States in the next few months so if you would like to meet that would be good. Of course I will completely understand if you don't.

Yours faithfully,

Andrew Roche.

 

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Confucius said - "Our greatest glory is not in never falling but in rising every time we fall"

 

 

Notes: Thank you for reading anyone who made it this far. I have more of this 'verse in my head and will hopefully tie up some more loose ends in an epilogue soon.


End file.
